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

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”

Hug

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The mountains hug forgotten ones

Souls known in gestures centuries old.

Wonderfully wild and high enough

where clouds can wet their tears and soften edges

All in breathless upward climb in rhythm find

a peaceful soul

and a memory, union sweet.

Then falling down in gasps of fear darker turns and twists

My footing gone

the mountain moves

in outward reach

– embrace.

Lines

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I race through lines of shadowed trees

marking highway miles

Beams of sun flash inbetween

stains of light on dark

Never slow. Never stop.

Nothing stills the soul

A one-way movement through the day

as still the cancer grows

Nothing soothes the sting of flames

lining every breath

A daily journey–race it seems

through lines of shadowed trees

Another lightning in-between the patient-doctor space-

Data-speak and comfort lines

my very human face

reflecting life as memories

shadows close the day.

Photo by Trevor Cole