It’s a new day (again)
in another calendar year
Things are not as they have been
but you can give up all your fears
Just let it all come your way; then
hang on to only what is dear
You may lose, or even gain some, when
love becomes the only voice, you choose to hear
Once, the skin of all was black
Now, for so many, it has faded
as has their humanity
Crystal clear tears of the still, human
flow in rivers on
the streets of “freedom”
while their blood spills
red, then dries to black
But the flesh of the fake
contemptible, vile
is pale and bloodless
Our existence is wrapped up in busy fingertips
attracted to the alluring samples of scintillating screens
their constant updates filling our rapidly shrinking heads
But this touch has such little intimacy within its cerebral connection
where eyes no longer meet eyes; not light-filled nor even soul-piercing
soft, warm flesh not felt, and beating hearts not known
There is metal in our mouths now, that will stick in our throats
while impenetrable walls grow thicker to keep us apart
Until, out of reach, and each of us, alone
we will no longer remember how to breathe
ζ
ζ
ζ
ζ
ζ
Colors lying all across the ground
yellow, orange, red, and brown
but I thought only of red
seeing this, after the trees had shed
because it’s the only human one
flowing through us until we’re done
It’s not what shows up on our skin
unless another, unkindly, breaks in
tearing us apart; instead of twirling
together, dancing and swirling
like the sweet, falling leaves
on the morning’s autumn breeze
A change came in on a strong southwesterly wind
moving thoughts around like the pointed leaves
on the holly bush just outside the bedroom window
(AND ALL MEANING WAS LOST)
A large murder of crows has claimed the tall pines
they speak loudly to one another, while
continually repositioning themselves among the trees
(IDEAS JUST PASSED ALONG)
My ten year-old cat seems content to quietly observe the wind
blowing through those bushes or some movement in the pines
before settling in on the chair’s cushion
(WHAT IS PURPOSE?)
We humans, with our big brains, just carry that weight
having no preordained path to instinctively follow
So, we flit back and forth through life, like the crows
in search of the highest perch; and as the wind
ceases to blow, we lose interest and simply circle down
like my cat, giving in to that long nap
You’re going with your gut
but, but
your heart bleeds from the cut
in the spaces
But, but, but
just forget what’s already dead
it’s only in your head
but, but
it’ll leave when not fed
but
time, then erases
Heartspell 