flood and drought

quasi drunk

on these precious petals

plucked by trembling 

finger tips of good faith

and half willing

only to appease

our inability to change

 

but they are in no measure 

what mother needs

to keep her flesh

from bleeding out

and crying for us

her lost ones

who can only cling

to her withering skin

and our own false

hope

night rain

haven’t we heard enough
of this insatiable thirst
lapping at our bones
and our land
our windows and doors
it’s as if to say
‘just to remind you
we might not stop
if we choose’
but for now it’s just bluff
they will lull us to sleep
and slip away before
the light wakes
an obliterate world

windowless rooms

there are shadows nested in me
a womb of quiet wraiths
x-ray proof
hand-me-downs i never chose
bequeathed from meagre pickings
can’t hand them back

so i carry them close
pressing warmth against
their chill to soften the sting
in hope to remind me
we don’t see our footprints
until we look back

winds of change

 

IMG_1175

the wind came
out of exile
from the north
tempering the
somnolent summer
that turns a head
and slouches south
beaten for now

it freshens in
respite for
heaving lungs
and tacky skin
blowing purity
through thoughts
simplifying
the next stretch

into mindful
preparations
to slow our
need for the world
to forgive
its expectations
and leave the cold
to steer our course