If I stopped now
would i know tomorrow
the blurred foxglove in hand
the brandished iron in the other
staking the outcome by name.
If yesterday never arrived
do your best dear friend
to remember love
the petaled feet
I swept away, one-by-one, by hand.
Spring has run
the drifting fragrance
smells of dark
Her mad world
a blown leaf nestled
In moments of clarity I sing. In moments of despair I moan. In this moment I spy the green seeping from your eyes.
We step in the shallow pool where leaves gather in cooler days. The reds, yellows, and oranges ripen with the setting sun. Browns crunch under our shoes. Your fingers wrap around my wrist, clenching my pulse to see if I respond. I don’t. But I do.
I reach for the new growth you promised me years ago. I see it now. The tender green shoots sprout from your heart.
Yesterday, so many old feelings returned. Im angry. Im hurt. The relays of old films played all day in my mind. Scenarios I thought Id forgiven.
I was triggered into old patterns of behaving. Im utterly sad. After the heated emotions, I remind myself to keep forgiving them, so Im spared further damage to my heart.
I suppose I’m depressed too. My soul is tired and art has lost all color. Damn if I haven’t fallen hard.
I know this too will pass. The sun will shine again. But I am broken and hurt and mad.
Forgiveness promises very little in the midst of anguish. In the morning I plan to rise.
I fight against
Covid has an ego
and you bow to it’s confines.
Fear is the last death of humanity
to be obeyed
and breathed as decay
to satisfy another ego.
Nature tames and destroys.
We often fawn over a bird song
but turn our eyes away from the blood
on an eagle’s beak.
That very beak eats
should it’s appetite seek you.
My mind is cruising around the mountainous thoughts rising. What are we doing? Saving our selves or destroying others?
I see this time in history differently. Many believers hope people will return to God. I see the fear pushing more people into the dark. Worshipping people who carry a motto. I see them birthing destruction far greater a war than all wars together. Not caring for others. Rather, turning inward and away from spirit. Saving themselves while blaming others..
I see the scenario much differently than most I know. The destruction of goodness to usher in a masked sense of security. Death wins again.
Author’s note. I wrote this at the very beginning of the pandemic. I did not publish for various reasons. Does it feel right now? Not really. I am hoping a conversation starts… I am listening.
I can’t remember my name.
in an eggshell, cracked
i found out
he liked his eggs over easy
i preferred to be hard-boiled.
And when i can’t
became i don’t
or won’t or worse
it was my will that shattered his ego.
Today i rest my head
a chicken feather pillow
stitched by hand with dissolving thread
the surgery was all i needed.
In our irresponsibility, we rather blame others for personal shortcomings, than face our own darkness. A true person of integrity would seek truth, regardless the cost to ego. There is sound historical record, although often coerced to fit modern agendas, we embark research in areas of psychological interest. We easily blame religion as reasoning for bloodshed. Perhaps the taste of others misery helps us weather our own storms.
Another turned against humanity.
Crossing over to a twilight zone kaleidoscope eyes feast on dreams and circumstance. Do we fail to see what is happening? The world is not going to end tomorrow, as far as i know. But equally frightening is that it could. And not frightening in the sense that life becomes non-existent, but that while we possessed breath, we missed the purpose of earth.
Sometimes death frees more than the person gone. Other times it chains hearts to dreams and wishes. And then there is death that haunts forever.
I think our Creator is wrong… love will not save the world. Unless love is no longer required to discipline. Unless love is no longer required to forgive. Unless love is allowed to hate the enemy.
Do you know golden
the sticky glazed lover lips
washed in sunny hues
on stormy seas of teared eyes
blinked in snug smile
the pores which hold memories
blackened by torrent
my heart is emptied
what lingers is sediment
a fear of the dark
—I never desired a martyr to die. I hungered and thirsted for a friend to see and know me. Me. To hear choice words and allow my limbs to tumble too.