Hour 4 – Letter Poem – To my sister after mom

Hour 4 Prompt

Letter

For my sister

 

we seemed easier in the days before chaos and cancer and changing into superheroes when all we needed to be was weak and open to each other so we could lean into each other while we leaned into the pain of watching her wither into silver-foil boxes of dust and fragments of something that looks nothing like her at all.

 

I wanted to be different while only being who I could be for her while being nothing of what you needed me to be for you while you were who you needed to be for you for her while she disappeared into the rising sun the day she left for the first and last time – your greatest fear…to live without her.

 

maybe that’s why you needed to push me away with both hands so hard as to throw me up against the Rockies -keeping us a safe distance from each other – until you feel strong enough to crumble against the Rockies you threw me up against.

 

I can’t make you feel safe enough to open your heart to the possibility that I’m not your enemy.

All I can do is wait.

So I guess I’ll do that.

 

I love you

r.

© r. l. elke

Hour 5 – Image Prompt (2020) H.J

The dawn of the day,
sweeps my worries away –
And sheds light on some dreams long forgotten.

Sullen no more;
I am ready for
the quest.

Prepared to do my best,
And reach the highest peaks.

When the sun retreats,
I will not cry;
For I know I am left with,
the bright
expansive sky.

Alive,
with renewed purpose,
And fuelled by many verses
in this chorus of life:

Astounds me, surrounds me:

The dawn of this day,
Sweeps my past away,
And I begin again –
with new strength and new purpose,

Just around the bend.

#3 Wet

Thirsty ground has become

Crispy stalks of breakable

Slices of deceased grass

 

Bright blooms have wilted

As parched petals surrender

Falling in finality

 

Dry gray stones revealed

The brook losing moisture

While gaining ground

 

Tall trees without care

Their penthouse leaves

Still luscious green

 

Frivolous humans

Watering their landscape

As though there is more

(Hour 05) 02.30-03.30am. PROMPT: write a poem using an image (or all of them)

carved heart

never realised
how far the stars
went till i was
forced to sleep
under them
for weeks

— or rather
try to sleep
when really too
scared to dream
for fear of deserts
of orange dust
to drift too far
into the lake of milk

— so trace paths
over our heads
like branches
looking for leaves
waiting for night
to fold up like a brolly
& dawn to fill
the valley with honey

hour 5 poem

Deserts Lament

Deserts are an interesting place

Deserts are as different are you are from me

From sand and dirt to verdant waste

And as different from waters from oceans to seas

 

Deserts are as different are you are from me

They can be hot or cold and challenging indeed

And as different from waters from oceans to seas

If you are not careful you surely shall bleed

 

They can be hot or cold and challenging indeed

If you challenge the desert with an empty hand

If you are not careful you surely shall bleed

And find your dead body laid out and skin well-tanned

 

If you challenge the desert with an empty hand

From sand and dirt to verdant waste

And find your dead body laid out and skin well-tanned

Deserts are an interesting place

H6: Soaking it In; Washing it Out

Water in a million ways,

From misty mornings, end of days,

And between which round us splays,

 

We shelter from its touch.

 

Umbrella-ed, cloud-filled plashing ‘bout

To rampant tears that trickle out,

And both wash away the hurtful doubt.

 

We shelter from their chill.

 

Where stars reflect their bronze-bright glow,

In silent lakes and river flow,

And trees stretch aloft as they grow,

 

To caress the Maker’s robe.

The Carver (Hour 5)

The carver

I didn’t agree.

Carving a tree seemed heartless to me.
But you had gone into he-man mode.
Your face was stony while you carved.
Focused.
Relentless.

For all that, we have a small heart
out of place on a somber tree.

I might have said no.
But I didn’t.

You might have understood me.
But you didn’t.

That heart is not a tribute.
It’s a scar.

Hardened Heart

The crust of the Earth holds many secrets

Petrified in rock and wood.

Therein is the shape of a heart

seared through layers of sandstone.

Did erosion cause this art?

Or did some ancient lover carve

his love into stone?

Then again, does it really matter?

Hour 5: Memory On a Tree

While walking in the woods one day,

I came upon a tree.

It reached up high, majestic

Its grandeur called to me.

I took my time exploring

Its ancient roughened bark

And when I came to the other side

I spied a time-worn mark.

A heart was carved into the wood

Sap covered, its age was evident.

In my mind I saw the story

Of a love given sentiment.

I imagined two young lovers,

On a casual stroll one day

They came upon this same tree

And stopped along the way.

In a romantic rush of ardour

The two hearts were drawn as one

After they had left their mark

They resumed their walk beneath the sun.

Hour 5

In this 5th hour

I feel the need to say

I am a black woman

With black children

Who matter to me.

In this, the 5th hour…

It is important that you see

My black family is just as important as all you have produced from your belly.

In this the 5th hour, I want to scream…

Stand with me

Reassure me that I am worthy of the very breath I breathe.

In this 5th hour, please I beg of thee…