[reflecting on Psalm 49: 4-9, Matt 24: 37-44...*]
Why should I tremble as darkness falls,
when thieves of worldly riches strike?
...
My Very Dear Friend,
I don't know what to say, but I must say it
My Self is restless with words
so I will listen,
...
I see how it surfaced -
her festering desire to control,
her oozing need to live
in dreams and to deceive.
...
She wanted healing for them both.
Just once uttered pain subtly controlled.
Rarely feeling safe to want or need,
rejecting what hurt to think or believe.
...
I wish I had my mind in the body of a bird
contemplating my existence
riding on the winds of change, currents of
energy from pyramid points in the time
...
Quacknammering fools
sitting on the spout
like vultures on the scout
watching for the wasted
...
My memories are blue jeans, faded
and fraying in the stomach line
where I've bent so many times to be ill
...
(*dedicated to Ursula K. LeGuin*)
If you squeeze me long enough here,
it'll go squirming its way back in
...
Being a victim who survived is red like a bleeding willow tree
and black as a back road winter's night 'cause that was me,
but I'm healing to a sunny orange and sky blue,
warm summertime shades of mother-hugs in rocking chairs,
...