clouds amass in the west
dark with promise of rainfall
bruised by too much possibility
shot through with the sun’s brilliant wane
we wait under the threat
heaviness pressing upon our bodies
burdened by hope tied up in time’s passage
our hearts always reaching upwards
and if we grasp those white threads of light
where will we climb
what will we do
blood-red stem a narrow thread
to which origin shall we return
darker veins web the blades
do we feel the flow and ebb within
scarlet hues shade throughout
what shadows similarly tint our heart
we ourselves will one day rest just so
will such beauty be our display
yes and yes and yes
broken bench in the field
stone birdbath in pieces
some few half-buried paving tiles
dreams collapse all the time
this cannot be done
that will not happen
whatever this or that might be
grieve not for the fall
no failure this passage
beauty abides in fallow ground
peace in just this moment
another person killed
the bullet etched by invisible hate
engraved in his own words
the walls he sought to build
failed to protect him
nor will they shield you or you or you
the guns you hold on others
will be your death
when you are falling to the ground
who will come to hold you
the bier upon which you will be laid
the branches that set afire the pyre
the smoke that rises from the flames
all these will not be noticed
the world itself is in conflagration
the mourning is too vast
this moment of now
this leaf poised on the precipice of turn
this morning crisp with foretelling
this breath without any need
this step on the timeless threshold
this invitation to go beyond
one hand touches the earth
sudden fever decimates
scorching the physical terroir
poisons previously held in check
spread like liquid fire
usual means fail to extinguish
everything is consumed
room now for new growth
a leaf always upon the wind
its color the element of fire
yellow flame red flame brown-smoldered ash
some spark sets all alight
blown by forces uncontrolled
we stand bewildered as the brick walls collapse
while the match drops from our careless hand
rain carries sorrow hope joy despair
each drop a tear for all you cannot express
growth and destruction entwined within
mirrored strands of the same process
germinating seedlings given enough
villages in a floodplain washed away
each vital somewhere to someone
stand with open heart and dare
to be drenched in what water brings
and it was dying on the sidewalk
one delicate wing’s edge half-missing
the black border jagged as if chewed
the bright yellow interior poised
as if to spill color onto the pavement
in one last flutter before utter stillness
such brief resplendence needing witness
there on the sidewalk in silent recognition
then off into the seasonal turn
steps echoing on the cusp
and summer was dying as well
done with the weariness of it all
overbearing traffic, busy shops
too many cars and the heaviness of trucks
no longer trying to contain chaos
within their narrow lanes
resting in time’s change
home now to mundane businesses
and the occasional solitary walker
who finds solace in abandoned dreams
