assorted chaos
in the realm of reality
the water keeps fighting to get in
and i am out of buckets
not learning how to swim
feels like a mistake
now
too late for fixing
and too soon for proving
but already my feet are wet
and the water falls down the steps
with a lion-headed roar
the other day you brought sand bags
built me a fence
to keep the outside out
and the inside in
and that was love
these four walls
are my haven and my prison
and i paint them all pretty
coat them with pictures
but i’m always staring
out the windows
at the empty places
in the sky moon harbor
my hope sloshes home from
it’s cloudy today and the grey
washes in
floating past my knees
in a ribbon of revelation
on its way to almost forgotten
the hummingbird at my window
flies right through the rain
her wings turned to jewels
by habit
and the hollow fueled echo
of hunger
.
.
.
August 12th, 2014 at 9:14 am
her wings turn to jewels by habit…how cool a line is that? smiles…what keeps us safe often can become our prison as well….esp when we try to keep our two worlds separate, yet leave windows where we can always see beyond.
August 13th, 2014 at 2:17 am
melancholy on a summer day, and I also feel the grey ~
August 13th, 2014 at 9:11 pm
I love the hummingbird figure. For me, that’s the key in this poem. Somehow, we have to maintain a sense of movement, progress, even when we’re overwhelmed by the great forces. Very fine.
Steve K