Saved

IMG_1297.jpegRestless for the air outside

in the light of un-stained glass.

I count my breath to calm my spirit with

doors closing and hushed children.

Invocation then

to dreams and freedom

away from pretense and prose,

Amen.

 

September 2017/ cell phone photography
Florence, Italy

nights

_MG_0321I don’t know in the night

about corner edges and how they hurt

about who is in charge of my broken heart

breath so loud with fear

and yet no voice

tears fall fast and never seen

the space divorced from eastern light

I don’t know in the night

about me, about hope

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

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”

Pressured

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Not just frayed but edges pressed

pulled away with time

in pieces laid open.

Broken bloodlines crushed

still reaching for daylight

heart in hand

in love-seasoned life. 

 

Photography courtesy of Guldman “TheGolden Hour” wordpress.com