I woke to rolling thunder, exploding heat
clouds exhausted in felled surrender
and at my feet the ground gave way
in one deep breath a thousand sighs
the miracle I know as summer rain.
Awakening
Origins
Only so many heartbeats said a man-
trusting scarcity somehow to direct a life.
But daughters
hold treasured seeds of grandma’s eyes and DNA
inside their wombs not yet full
and they dance.
Nursing a Wound
Without respect to will
the heart still beats and chest breaths life.
Not true when with pain
I choose
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.
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
This place
Hearing something ahead
songs of those with voices only
nothing to touch though reaching deep
Fearing the fall
knowing nothing but the view
of love from inside out
in this place.
Mourning rounds
Before the full rising
I watched,
A witness to an accidental death.
A squirrelly fella, racing down and across
beating fast across the central lines.
Then frozen in fear –crushed
a heart stopped.
A morning death always makes me cry.
Gasp
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”
Lines
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
Strandings…
There is no imagination even
to find the journey
with lovers, dance and sacrament.
Evening shadows of vessels block the shore, the portals.
No tides, no swell. No circles of sun and moon.
Just flatland -well calculated, illustrated, dramatized and over spoken.
The daily grind , the inland
of forgotten life and being.
Image with gratitude via “Capturing The Imagination” WordPress.com
To know
To know the beat of waves in rhythm
stripping, striking stone to sand
gasping breath and fear together
pushed and pulled in chords of love.
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