On the train I feel
Like I am nobody yet
Could be anyone
-me
Painting: Train Girl by Thomas Saliot
(This was written during my travels this weekend, before the tragic derailment this morning. My heart and thoughts are with those who lost loved ones, and with those who are injured.)
Grief reached out
And grabbed my throat
It crushed the spot
That housed my voice
Like a cardboard box
In a giant’s fist
Pain reached out
And yanked my feet
It buckled my knees
And felled me fast
My legs like a fawn’s
In a sawtooth trap
Loss reached out
And stole my soul
It sucked me clean
Took all old fight
Left bare my bones
A sterile me
Release seeped in
And shored my spine
It meated my middle
Infused ash skin
So from this corpse
A beast shall rise
-me
Image A Cold Resurrection by iNeedChemicalX on deviantart.com
The atmosphere falls
Suddenly still around me
Soft cotton silence
-me
Painting by Joan Fullerton
Heartaches and holly berries
Blood-red bows and stars of blue
Waning rays and winds of change
Gift-wrapping dreams in hues of you
-me
Painting by Patti Mollica
A few degrees
Makes all the difference
In temperature or math
To architect and traveler
Detailed attention
Squares the path
-me
Painting: Architect’s Dream by Thomas Cole
I am mountain
Tunneled through
And standing
All manner of mobile
Automatic machines
Using and viewing fast
My stony middle
Just to travel
A to B without
The timely struggle
Of knowing my nature
Risky wild
And teaching
I remember history’s days
Of rope and boot
And photo shoot
Humans finding foothold
Me providing peak
My pieces picked
For summit’s peace
Tandem plateau and travel
Those days are gone
Time has ticked on
I am still mountain
Tunneled through
And waiting
-me
I am no beauty
Sleeping but a wild thing clipped
And darkly waking
-me
Artwork: Maleficent by Umika-Sayoji on deviantart.com
The blue sky above begs, “forever”
My body below cries, “a moment”
Between us we meet at this lifetime
Neither sure what we leave in the going
-a.r.
I have discovered
Dogs have bested Freud
For they deflty nod
And slightly smile
And sometimes meet your eye
As you spill your soul
Find cures your own
While walking by their side
-a.r.
This morning
I cannot tell
If these dear birds
Do sing their songs
To woo each other
Or
Fling them long
To wound the other
But my toes are cold
So inside I go
Perhaps
It’s just as well
-a.r.
Forgive the repost, but these dear birds are at it again, and my toes are just as cold.
sometimesihatemycat 