• Carla

Push-Pull

Updated: May 13, 2021

Leaves

The trees sit proudly with their hair on fire.

They laugh at us in the rain,

Water playing over their faces,

Wrinkled wisdom splayed over their backs.

And we begrudge the opportunity to collect their treasures,

Which end up in a heap by the curb.

We lament the gold that should have lined our pockets

And watch it scatter, giggling, a windfall no more.

Autumn’s eyes

witness the assemblage

as it wends

toward

the drain.



Vessel

I used to think grief was a cloud,

Dark, hovering.

Grief was the wind roaring loud,

Sharp, thundering.

Grief was a weight holding me down;

It was the shoe, I was the ground.

Now I see grief as I float on my back,

Light, mothering.

Stars on the way through rivers of black,

Quiet, wondering.

Grief shoulders no fear and flows through the mire-

It is the walker, but I am the wire.



Push-Pull

Two frogs float amid the reeds, ensuant battles set to fill their vacancies.

Red rock deserts long lain parched, sigh as rainfall swells to quench in March.

Owls grow quiet in the witching hour, observing wolf-song praises of the dark devoured.

Wisteria waft their heady scent, masking poisoned bitters buried in their depths.

Critters regain ground to build their dens, lest we forget who first invaded them.



The (Unintended) Malice of Joy

Happiness looms, deep and threatening.

I wonder.

I ask the sky why the sun went soft;

The prospect of this storm is frightening.

There is no thunder, no fanfare, no lightning.

I want to curl up with a cup of tea and tell it to buzz off.

Joy feels like pain when it is a stranger

And we look for faces that are familiar.

It isn’t magic; it feels real, so real.

Ancient and timeless, it is a legacy;

Archaic relics and ruins have been passed out like currency,

Stories as old as our history.

I wonder.

When you put your money where your heart is, not in your mouth,

If your tastes might change.

You might bet on yourself and believe in your worth;

You might have a fighting chance, a chance at rebirth.

Yesterday was a good day.

I wonder.

I ask about today, the possibility of what could be,

If I can get out of my way.



In Bloom

Cold hearts stir

Souls thaw

And we brave the wicked wilderness

With hope in our hands

Extended to the sky

Catching the light

As we open like flowers

And root like trees

Reconnecting

Resurrecting

One breath at a time





Thank you for joining me. I am so glad you’re here!

32 views

Related Posts

See All