Darkness

January 21, 2021

The tick, is it inside my head or just over there on the wall

Both

The cold upon my hands is it still there or has it traveled to my heart

Both

The quiver on my lips is it caused by the world or by him

Both

Does art matter beyond the eye or will it stay forever in our minds

Both

When we are deemed useless is it easy to overcome or can it stay with us forever

Both

Scared I’m close to only one side existing. Weakness is impatient with me. Strength barely recognized.

Yet

I still see beauty. It’s in flowers, rocks, trees, clouds, water, prairie, mountains, oceans and sand.

And

I’ve witnessed love.

Shelter

might I come for awhile,
little bitty dreams
of yesterday
have returned.
crisp air has forged
a wool blanket, yet
within you I’d feel protected.
air has freedom I’m unsure
of, terrifying ideas
too many possibles,
too many versions of me
compete.
your walls,
could bring me peace,
looking up …
the distance makes
me dizzy.

Pause

You reside on protective winds,
Waves she won’t honestly understand; and been denied.
Bringing peace to bruised souls deemed worth saving.
Left early to her own devices,
She questions helpful hands
Prefers avoiding disappointment, yet failed.
Forced to believe she’s meant to be alone,
Soul searching required, and left to wonder
Why life is the way it is.

Stoic Protector

Do you know the owl,
The one who sits now
Upon the middle limb,
The patchwork branch,
Of a once thriving essence?
Her skin is exposed,
Bare, light timber
Amongst veined,
Even freckled patches of,
Black and grey bark.
Owl remains perched,
Guarding at the helm,
As the brightest star sets
Behind thinning stock, and
What is now his tree,
Whether he chooses to
Believe it or not.
She’s the aftermath of
Witnessed abuse,
Pain felt,
And reoccurring sadness
As others depart.
He’s her stoic protector
And shall not fade
With the evening sun.

Grackle’s Song

image

When dried leaves depart,
In submission to the changing wind,
And nothing now makes sense,
Remember we’re all given a plan.
While quiet enough to hear,
And present enough to understand,
We’ll realize sadness, too, is a gift.
Even when the hearts of Grackles,
Sit and wait for a chance to create,
Songs out of screeches and cackles,
Their tune we refuse to consummate.
Yet, we allow it to comfort us within,
Remember, same tree, same devotion,
When leaning into darkness, once again.