Edge

The beauty of a sunset along the Appalachian gaps

reminds me that I wish no one ill

Yet then its shining point annoys

I squint

and the glare strains my soul

I shout

“go hide in the valley and die out”

no patience

no presence

and in that breath

I have struck an edge

from life to death

Commute

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Bags in hand

carried out 

up front with doors shut 

seated for the daily performance

Invariable anxiety 

among the hosted caravan

some more polite than others.

Mirrors shoulder high 

from the corners reflecting 

the auburn and pink rising

behind and brightly announcing 

the commuting of the day. 

Photo courtesy of Somber by Sunrise

Mourning rounds

From the opposite side, I watched the murder

some might say suicide.

It seemed though to be racing and there was never an attempt to waver.

Indecisive the victim scrambled left -right

then frozen in fear –crushed by the weight

a heart stopped.

A morning death always makes me cry.

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Photo courtesy of Sue (Mac’s Girl)

Gasp

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the wounding is the same

self inflicted in moments perceived through lenses lost in time

birthing shame

eternal scenes rehearsed to protect a shattered soul from love scorned

beholding fear

so taught by mothers and mother’s mothers until each is carried

beyond this

gasping

 

Image courtesy of “Franziska/ Whataboutawaterbottle”