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
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,
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
Aspire to transcend, reach higher consciousness, like a lotus rising out of muck – but grace and virtue elude me, more mud hen than delicate
My forward movement startles us both – you ground foraging with the robins, me delighted by a flash of red – heart at your nape.
Evolution, not devolution, will bring salvation. Archeology – the willingness to forage in the desert: multi-layers of fallout, aftermaths, abandonments – unearthing fragments, reconstructing –