Mother

Spring flowers bloomed conception,

as she carried a force with umbilical connection.

Sang songs of familial relations,

until snowflakes glistened the new life cascade.

A frigid orange air whispered secrets better left to a howl.

Still

he was comfortably cared for.

Mature trees blistered blood-stains

above impubescent seedlings.

As seasons altered and changed,

adolescent scents choked out hope,

pollinating the atmosphere with songs of red age.

Connection disconcerted

confounded by careless captions,

or

lyrics of hate.

Sixteen years passed,

and

they found themselves at an impasse.

Ripped her out of the present,

a forced recollection of the past.

Joy rendered fantasy,

clouded by dissonant breath.

How ironic –

She: granted life

He: returned death.

“I’m sorry

mom.

You gifted me with sight,

how dare I not see

the Christ in you,

reflecting mercy on me.”

Forgiven for all said

and left

undone.

Suddenly.

Harmony falls, like Autumn, from trees,

while expectation sprouts legs – be free!

Under the same season’s sun

hope journeys forward and on,

to an orange-chorded sea

where meaning is tanned

by photosynthetic minds.

With new life emerging

out of murky red shorelines.

Thank you.

I love you, too.

May: A Second Look

The introduction to the introduction to the interlude
But oh, I can’t stand to wait
Let me sit
and ruminate
On what could and could not be
All direction is a misdirection
I’ll forgive the signs that got me here
Because I am here
(Not there)

Movement: a conflagration of confused forward motions
Vulnerability: standing naked before the mirror
constructed by everyone I know and I fear

Anxiety: how fragile it is after all
Hope: how worth it is after all
even if it falls apart, it’s a mess worth making

Life: oh dear.
I’m here.
Although I fear –
You’re here.
We’re here.

Be still.