thumbprints press hard
on the outer part to shape shift being
into a failed construct
facade
hiding a soul looking for the light behind
to dispel shadows and such
searching for life beyond the creep of forced ideals
into everlasting peace
Lighting the path beyond,
the moon leans toward a fate larger than death,
the eastern sun bullied by looming clouds of day.
Life speaks daily in the rise and fall–
hope wrapped in even the darkest morn.
Not thinking much about god these days,
trapped in stone and stained glass.
Though everywhere I look
tangible, take your breath away visions
most often
strong, nurturing and wise
like a Mom.
Tangled Twisted.
Winding Wombs.
Birthed beyond edges and endings.
Carried cradled warm with hope.
Time bends moist moments
into pain
birthing
refractions
of shallow hope
with life lines into tomorrow
When life is taken
Time stops
Reverses even
Memory cradles Moments
Mistakes and
Madness
Hear then the chimes awaken
All souls
Forgiven en mass
Resurrected
Kissed
Death to life imagined
for Michael
Silent
Strong
Edges and borders
Marking love like a destination.
The grey in between, though, soft and caring.
Big-Brother-Like
birthed in so much softness
trained now to guard
the soul of hearth and home.
I will remember
this innocence
tattered by life and broken
dead
grace be damned
and fathered still
I will remember
though knowing too late
the father loss pain
of his begetting
Even in the darkest waters
Energy lurks
Enduring time
Enlisting seasons of change
To spark the flow.
When will it be okay to just be tired?
not angry
-startled by shadows of fear
not depressed
-nursing hate into despair
not anxious
-spinning wants into the air
Just tired
-resting calm
eyes closed
-finding peace
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