If i were to talk
because i held a certain trust
that words left on ledges
wouldn’t be pushed
shoved or trampled
what would your answer be?
The flowers carefully cut
each slice affords another view
each decidedly new
to the possibility of desert juice
so let’s drink up under the star’s canopy.
And if the end starts
another conversation
would you stay past midnight
under the blanket tent
I pitched while cleaning house?
Dressed in bleak
we stand and speak
of autumn nights that ramble
while holding hands
and rehearse our final vows.
Tag: meaning of life
Abandoned Voices
Most people endeavor to do life justly and loyally. Although we learn early on just how broken life becomes once the safety of home (our minds and bodies) is lost.
Why should we toil when a flower blooms eloquently without second guessing the push to find the sun?
In fertile soil
promise of milk and honey
hungry bellies bulge
Is it only our thoughts that cause us to fail? “I lack confidence in my voice.” “I tremble at everything I do.” “I worry this charade is a show put on to please.” Sound familiar? Or is there more to life than waking up?
Each day we should learn to take the path of least resistance. We have what we need to grow built into our DNA. You are alive and a million possibilities await.
And when life becomes totally unbearable, when we fail, that too is just. For it is then we learn forgiveness. To stare into a stranger’s eyes and whisper, “I welcome you friend.”
Wabi-Sabi
I updated my site again. The second time this year. These new beginnings are another chance at survival. Embracing what I will become while accepting the current condition of my heart and soul.
I gently ease into this new idea of me. Playing around with logistics until it feels like home.
This is where I am. Wabi-Sabi. An imperfect ideal of being me.
Week in Review: B & W
To tend the minute
winding details around time
mapping each morsel
Fleeting Floats Beyond
Or Summer heated blues?
Nothing stays long enough to know. —Mary Szybist, Incarnadine: Poems
My head aches with worried words
the squirrels chattering all day long
it is “nuts” i say
to play this way
so i venture on.
And in the view
I capture two
spaces, far and near
my heart feels lost
the cost too much
and time wonders why.
Is it Spring
that welcomes us
dancing in the street
where no one drives
the coast is clear
your feet travel far.
I loved you once
and tried again
to be brushed aside
rushing for the sun
where all darkness hides.
I forgot green runs too
so long they last
the brown songs past.
We once walked single file
holding beaded pearls
and slowly
I let go the rope.
Abandoned Voices
To taste the air.
To know the wind.
To watch a bird
take flight
and welcome home
freedom’s fight.
To touch the ground’s
growing heartbeat.
To know our day’s bleak
as we are weak
to ever soar above.
If we understood each waking hour, what sound emerges for us? What lays at the edge of every step we take? Is freedom ever found?
The glimmer of hope rings true until the descent brings one closer. So how does one revive the home fire when all the logs are burnt?
I hope to continue Abandoned Voices through a series of photos that capture thoughts and answer questions. This being the first photograph, edited.
Week in Review: B & W
Spring abundance
leaves me empty
with only thoughts
unsung desire
bumblebee stung
the tip of tongue
