Absence fills the silence
with shadowy wings
becomes a raven
sharp-taloned,
razor-beaked
I cower
loss too
immense
for comprehension
would lay my body down
be consumed, but for
the children’e eyes pinning me
their woeful gazes,
begging to be uplifted
I am abandoned
and not
a flicker
called to be
beacon.
(Art from personal collection)
Clawed my way out of deep
and devastating holes,
been disembowelled
by diabolical acts,
choked on craven impulses,
blinded by revenge, but
character overrides spite,
grateful integrity intact.
(Image from personal collection)
September is
chilly mornings
and classroom routines,
cardigans dragged home,
and the onset of colds.
Grandma packs her bag
with activities to distract,
a soup to boost bodies
and an apple crisp
fresh from the oven.
Some days
the best education
comes snuggled under
warm blankets with
inter-generational love.
(For Ragtag Communty’s daily prompt: crisp. Â Grandma duty calls, be back later!)
Aspire to transcend,
reach higher consciousness,
like a lotus rising out of muck –
but grace and virtue elude me,
more mud hen than delicate flower,
lack the subtleties of enlightenment –
spiritually inept.
(Image from personal collection.)
My forward movement
startles us both –
you ground foraging
with the robins,
me delighted
by a flash of red –
heart at your nape.
You rise, alight
on tree branch
your squeaky call,
warning or greeting
stops me in my track –
patiently I wait
as you circle the tree
head bobbing, alert,
till we both settle
and my lens succeeds.
(For Granny Shot It’s Bird of the Day. Â Image from personal collection.)
Evolution,
not devolution,
will bring salvation.
Archeology –
the willingness
to forage
in the desert:
multi-layers
of fallout,
aftermaths,
abandonments –
unearthing
fragments,
reconstructing –
meaning,
history,
value –
brings redemption.
(This is a rewrite of a previously published work. Â Image from personal collection.)
Long since
dawn’s early
observation,
have witnessed
patriarchy’s
inequalities
first hand
second hand
lack a solution,
short of vengeance –
perpetrate rather
than end the cycle
of crime –
no place
to call home.
(Image from personal collection.)
Forged in a crucible of fire
my essence is flame –
I smoulder in silence
burn in indignation
ignite with passion –
stir these embers if you dare.
(Image from personal collection.)
Connections, like bridges,
run between us –
no matter how subtle –
nations and individuals,
there is no divide…
Imagine if we acted
in this knowledge –
mindful and kind –
not so subtle the outcome,
I should think.
(For Ragtag Community’s daily prompt: subtle. Image from personal collection.)
Autumn winds fevered –
constraint not an option when
fierce Winter follows.
(For RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Challenge: Â fever/ fierce)
