that's mrs. mediocrity to you

you cannot deny the light

the way it colors everything
with the existence of shadow

i see hope in the mirror
of cracked faces

something deeper than darkness

some glimmer of innocence and
arbitrary renewal

random patterns weaving evidence
of participation

the glow of reverence

your compass leads the way
with no reflection

crazed crackled map
of delicate edges

leading to your last deliverance

with your heart
with your mind
with your soul

refuse
to listen
to ask permission
to be defined

your music
is your legacy
your song
your essence

refuse to be silenced

slice through the dark
with the call
of your hunger

unleash your fury

keen
in the presence
of light

warmth of sun
melting midnight crystal

the flag of patience
waves a cold, cold breeze

one touch too soon
and all will crumble

and this is my life right now.

i focus on the beautiful part,
the first dusting of snow,
the wind in tall grasses,
12 crows in the beige back field.

things taken for granted
are cherished once again.

frustration is an ugly word,
an impossible puzzle.
this word sits on my shoulder these days,
tap tap tapping… just to make certain
i do not forget.

i tell myself this will pass.
i tell myself that spring will come
with tiny green shoots and blood red roses.

i tell myself, again and again.

a bluejay lands outside my window,
a message to stay strong.

fight back.

rosehips and berries offer food
from a dry, barren landscape.

we eat, together.

and this is my life right now.

as i stood there waiting in a dust filled corner
smote and smitten with the angle
of a sun designed to rip my heart out
while you cursed and carried on

everything is always locked

but the eyes of this dark-haired girl
in a poster tacked to the blank back wall
her empty stare covering the hole
you drunk-punched open

on a night i will always remember

she knows everything about you
and i can’t read that droll expression
yet if i stand here long enough
in this spot of dancing light

my shadow will become her

december colors

wrapped in august light

the softest of shadows

in a promise of night

.

feather and rock

needle and stone

leaf and boulder

.

tree tall

and night fall

.

debris and detritus

claiming space

the shape of beauty

.

wind blown

and heart thrown

.

spinning spinning

in the grey pirouette

of hope’s abandon

.

but that’s not to say
death isn’t final

and the gold ring on my finger
isn’t valuable

or that some days my eyes aren’t
more emerald than olive

i refuse to be bitter
yet sit here
sipping vinegar

singsonging my way
through another day
of valiant questions and

i’m certain i was meant to be a tree
nothing feeds me like sky

birds are my shelter and
i need roots to hold me

still

even as i crave wind in my hair
and words on my skin

crawling clawing genuflecting
on a surface of no definition

bent broken akimbo
lackadaisical limbs

circling stars in a pattern
of pretty

tracing sibilance
with long bony fingers

through the avarice
of dark’s last answer

.

.

.

.

Linking up with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night – join us!

where there

is smoke

there is fire

.

but there

could also

be ice

.

you can’t

always tell

the truth

just by looking

.

sometimes

you need

to listen

.

i want to live

in the sky-ceilinged

shadows

.

wood nymph

flower girl

gatherer

.

resisting hope

is hopeless

while

everything grows

amidst decay

.

seeds and leaves

on the floor

of survival

.

i am this tree

that bird

those spiny cones

.

the light

reminds me

of everything

.