Abandoned

Born into a wet world
harsh
motherless world
wrapped in an old hessian sack
gasp for air
fill my lungs
dark—
so dark
hurled into the air—
is this life
I wait
small heart
gallops
small sound
I whimper
yet do not know what is happening
to me—
mother, where are you
what happened
taken suddenly from you
I cry
for me
and for all those like me
hessian sack
closing in
I have no air left to breathe
I am tired
to close my eyes
forever in this world I’ve yet to see
destiny is this
eternal sleep
then darkness

Our children

Children raised for higher purpose
beings of the greater world
life—
held in our palm
dictated by a faceless voice
when deathly hollows wait
below
to gather the refuse
debris
of a lesser child
we will weep
and ponder
retrace the steps we took
and those before us took
to get to where we are now
and hope it’s not too late
our protest not in vain
when we know
inevitably —
it is
it was
and it forever this way shall be

On the end

I'd like to think, when I die
the rivers would fill
from tears that flow
the sun would sit in permanent darkness
beneath the moon and the underworld—
I'd float through the sky,
as a ghost
a spirit
an eternity
and cast my eyes
on the trees, that struggle to find their footing
from the land that became barren
from the animals that followed me—
I'd like to think, when I die
I'd be more than a memory
a photo
or thought
anecdote, but—
a thing that had left
a lasting impression
some knowledge
or feeling
of what life meant to me

Things decided

We laughed together
fell in love together
and cried together
never saw the pain come
only felt it when it arrived
came at us like a rocket
shattered us—
broke our hearts
never thought we could piece it back together
only saw the debris
strewn across the way
the road ahead was blocked
never thought to find an alternate
way
somewhere else to go
held onto all we knew
for as long as we could
and when it hurt too much
we decided—
you decided to let it go
made your way through the rubbish
through the broken bits
of everything we ever knew—
found a path
overgrown and in the opposite direction
but you took it anyway
and you found
it was your path
a different path than me

The why of life

Why does the sun shine
the moon have many faces
the grass grow
green
rain fall
waves roll
tide comes and goes
sand gets in everywhere
why—
do people fall in love
fall out of love
hate
die
get ill
hurt—
themselves
someone else
animals
when will
times change
people change
things change—
forgiveness becomes the most important thing
pain is abolished
war
illness
bad—
things
people
thoughts
cease to exist...

In a moment

The world rushes by-
in a whirl of colour
flashes
snippets
of a conversation
of a movement
gesture—
sometimes
in a haze
of black and white
grey a shade in between
highlight points that are—were
of interest to someone,
anyone,
or no one—
take a moment,
a snap shot
what is there left,
an old exposed film of my life
obsolete
irrelevant
uninteresting

Roses—just once

Lonely is the woman—
who sits in an old wicker chair
on her porch,
in winter with a crochet blanket atop her knees
lonely woman—
strains her neck
watching every car that passes
every single car
watches and waits
and hopes,
it will stop
by her house
patiently waits
 a smile spreads across her face
when,
one slows down—
she sits up,
that little bit straighter
that little bit more determined
then shrinks back down,
when it continues on its way
cruel fate
leaves her all alone
on special days
they'll come
with a wilted poses of daisies
or carnations,
Mother's day—chrysanthemums
but she's not dead—
not yet,
don't they know,
chrysanthemums are for the dead,
carnations too
and daisies, well
she has her own in the garden
this is what her life has come to
this is what she waits for
roses—
just once