The memory soaked moment
glass windows of prayer
Photo thanks to Ruth Scribbles WORDPRESS
more than unknowing
more than confusion
more than isolation
It is the truth that is lost with the blow hearted makers of heaviness
thick with injustice meant to allow time to escape the light of day
photography thanks to Paul Militaru
She did not match the data presented
in hospital speak to a crowd of learners.
It was not so much a lie
as it was a revealing – a tale.
The well and the ill are stories
told from all sides of a hospital bed
in space and time
not captured in code and computer screens.
So let the record so reflect
the hurt and the heart of
beyond the numbering of days.
Photography thanks to Nick Van Zanten
Without respect to will
the heart still beats and chest breaths life.
Not true when with pain
to listen or not, to care too much-
hold so tight the hurt
the inner lines are lost
and I am not me but you.
From the opposite side, I watched the murder
some might say suicide.
Racing never an attempt to waver.
Morning speed a must.
Indecisive the victim scrambled left -right
then frozen in fear –crushed by the weight
a heart stopped.
A morning death always makes me cry.
Photo courtesy of blumworks@wordpress
the wounding is the same
self inflicted in moments perceived through lenses lost in time
eternal scenes rehearsed to protect a shattered soul from love scorned
so taught by mothers and mother’s mothers until each is carried