Promise year: 42

To have and to hold “will not last long”

too messy, too young they said

yet 42 promise years later,

we stand each whole

and yet one.

Lost often in transitions of life and being

Found tired and tried

But always true to the journey

One breathe at a time of I Love You’s.

Skin

Bearers of power live from the surface

skin deep

the only measure of dominance.

Too many die in the shadow

of their sun spared wrappings

Of hate by exclusion

Of what matters in black.

Roots

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Rain heavy leaves

surviving the fall

spine fractured and severed high,

alive only in memory of a collective grace.

With  dreams of new life budding

in leaf soaked earth,

roots nurture all of life 

Mother kissed 

birthing a new haven.

Enchanted

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A story lives in the shape of things

words in the walls

left unspoken or unheard.

A memory in the feel of the air

blowing through time

trapped in a trinket or touch.

A heart holds tight with a tear or a smile

enchanted

in the wisps and wonder

of lover speak.

 

New Mexico 8/2014

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