24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Walking the labyrinth of dried lava
Pele’s braids
Feet on the edge of burning.
The head meditates
while the waves crash in
trying to wake the sleepwalker.
I
a random speck on the edge of a crater.
When there is nothing left to plunder,
nothing left to analyze, pick apart, objectify, report, gossip upon,
I
a fading voice calling above the crater,
I
Like Pompeii, falling into the wind,
I
ashen, silent.
He is an earthy fool of morning—
makes the uphill trek of five leagues
and gathers anemones.
He is a fiery child of dusk—
arrives in the quietness beyond fatigue
and knocks at the door.
She is a flighty girl of night—
wears an anemone in her hair
and opens the door.
It is a deranged river of dawn
breaks the shackles that tamed it once
and rears its hood to strike.
Earth, Wind, Fire, and Water
Heated room, the fan blowing hell’s fire to the four corners,
Her sword’s aimed, blazing to the sun’s lost rays.
Morning.
She’s got sky ambitions for an earthbound beauty, rosetted
Corsage sewn to her wrist in blood.
Afternoon
Swilling tear drop infusions in a China cup, the afternoon pour,
A sick, oppressive humidity sinks her inside the sofa,
Evening
Chill in her spine, the night crawls upon her like witches’ wind,
Dragon’s breath in her hair.
Night.
No relief in sight, charred words will crumble onto cyber pages
Til rheumy dawn casts the garland crown.
The dream beckons
Cracking the sound waves
Wreaking havoc in the wind
The dream struggles
Breaking the shackles
Shattering the silent space
The dream…slips away
And dreams its own dreams
we borrowed a little soil
to grow food around our
little house
the wind, which had blown strong
off Bellingham Bay
all winter and spring,
was still now.
neighbors walk out at low tide,
from Locust Beach,
when the cold waters recede.
fires are burning all over British Columbia
over 1 million acres of trees have
sizzled and popped.
the air is eerie from particulate
refracting light,
as if a nuclear war had
flashed across the horizons
we kept inside to avoid
breathing the noxious air.
that smelled faintly of
charred dreams.
but I went out to pick
summer blackberries,
high in a thicket above
Squalicum Park,
reaching high as I can
for the plumpest ones,
willing to be scratched
by their thorny arms.
happy to work near the
honey bees,
plying the wild pea flowers,
intertwined.
Bonfire so grand
Embers warm my hand
Sea breeze
Soothes sun-parched inland
Restless soul, legs tanned
Waves tease
Lulled, seduced, I stand
At ease
World, my amazing World, you sustained me
When death came near.
Winds first rustling in wild torrents flew me
To the hospital, where waiting doctors listened for
Sirens above the whoosh.
Water iced over in silver-white edges cracked in support and
Traction in the frenzy of gurneys and running emergency bustle.
Candles flickered during desperate prayers in the darkest hours
That night when tiny flowers found strength in their mulch-covered seeds.
You, my World, embraced me then comforted and saw us through.
World, my nurturing World, you comforted me
When death stepped aside.
Trees in February’s chill dug into the deepest soils
Past dried leaves, left over snowed tears, and
Knotted growths to pull up the delicate leaf buds of
March, slowly, shyly gazing through my hospital window
Teaching me that roots grow within us all
Bringing life when we most need the breath for one more day.
World, my brazen World, you goaded and prodded
Me in defying the daily deaths of apathy, fear, and resignation
As I returned home yet needed more healing.
Sun shining into my home brought no soft rays of light but
Instead fire-flight wings of energized determination,
Allowing for my own tears to well-up and flow,
My hurt to howl out in springtime’s wind songs,
My knees to gratefully sink to soft muds and new grass in cries of humble gratitude
Following wobbly steps and murmured fears.
You celebrated and inspired
Recovery through a dark passage.
Your flames would reach up, billow, and tower to illuminate new paths or
Grow smaller into candle flames to warm each pastel spring morning to a golden afternoon
World, my miraculous World, you celebrate with me
A rebirth in this summer a year of trials, growth, and wonder after that first shock.
Winds elevate to make me want to fly or coo to me
Water in storm torrents or soft mist cleanse me
Your minerals, rocks, and soil connect me to a deeper, richer inner-well
Your fire warms for energy and ignites my determination.
World, my amazing, nurturing, brazen, miraculous World, thank you for my life.
Her sorrow is as low as below sea level, but her faith is like a promised life of eternity. Her heart is as peaceful as love brings like still waters upon an ocean at ease. Her joy is a journey beyond the path that eyes can see.Her mind is full as hairs on ones head. Her soul is pure and leads you along to the gates of Heaven but not once did you notice the slow tears of her pain.
Elemental
Wild child, breezing through
the passing days, twigs caught
in my hair, I rode
the back of the north wind,
her spirit child.
No one ever told me
those swiftly disappearing
days would be here
and gone, burned away
in a flaming instant.
For what do flames need
most to feed them
but air?
The kinesis of roiling
atoms that once informed
my being became one man’s
food, and I nearly disappeared,
subsumed within the fire.
On my knees in cindered
supplication, water revived
and cleansed me, and I
evolved once again, a fish
darting in gleaming shimmers.
Slip-sliding through currents,
another gently supported,
behind, below, around, held
but not restrained by the water
bearer’s caressing hands.
One day it will come,
my final being, a child
of the earth at last, coming home.
The once sustaining waters
will flow, trickle, and slow.
For what will my own wild
child need? I will feed
that which feeds my children.