I

Picture this: The arrogant breeze

on the combine rolling through a wide field of canola.

Before dawn.

Before the light breaks over the mountaintops

and the farmer grinds his teeth,

lights a dart

and wraps his dry withered mouth around

the billowing fumes of toxic aggression

the snake oil prescription of a new morning.

Fighting tide against time;

Hope swinging in on the carcass of a new beginning,

and this is us.

Foul and fair,

idle against the breeze

and now turned against the wheels

of quiet contemplation.

 

 

Like the devil’s stare

screeching, into the midday air,

we look on beyond the hills on high

above and beyond the breathy wilderness.

We flayed the bark off of trees

carefully selected from the sizeable woods behind the yellow hills

and broke them down to build what we though

looked like our best impression of a home.

 

 

Age upon age,

tore and tilled the fields

and the woods

bent under the weight of the dying air.

Can he rebuild

the world he once made whole?

Tide and time

persist

always bringing with them

hope of a new sun rising

and the fields now grown tall

fit to be reaped.

 

 

But the light still fades

and pulls back the curtain of the stubborn hope.

An optimism once sturdy

as the wild prairie winds send the house

sideways; flying through the boundless badlands

and still sitting by my side.

Like a shadow

resting softly on the dirt.

And here we are,

still here

fading,

sinking into the barren soil.

 

I can’t believe we couldn’t make this work.

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

When She Shouts

Tell me why it wraps around you

and drapes down by your feet,

dripping… Dripping

all across the floor.

Every time you throw it on

the same empty, hollow rage,

the same anger,

I can only try my best to bare it.

But that outfit looks good on you.

If I Could Find You

If I could find you

If I could fail you

If  I could follow you deep into the darkest caverns of the world

And light the way with only the glow of your heart beating in my hand

If I could see what you had seen when you found me

Crawling through the dust

And eating the weeds that I plucked from beneath me

The weeds cultivated in agony and borne on my frail and wizened breath

And if I could gaze deeply into the heart of the world

And follow you,

And if I could look into my own soul and feel the tempo of yours as I searched for you

And if I could fail you

And still light the way with only the glow of your beating heart

As I carried it through the deepest catacombs

Then could you find me again?