If Tears Tell Time
Where dust and ash drink heaven’s rain
And spill the sands of sorrow’s cache
If tears tell time, then time heals pain
Salt preserves, though mem’ries wane,
Death, branded on the heart and flesh
Where dust and ash drink heaven’s rain
Fingers trace chilled window panes
The glass-of-hours-before, I sketch
If tears tell time, then time heals pain
Crystal faced with stainless veins
Diamond dew mists emerald grass
Where dust and ash drink heaven’s rain
Ours lost, yet, future gains
That which will, hold all that’s past
If tears tell time, then time heals pain
My pocket watch, your golden chain
One lightning strike, eternal, etched:
“Where dust and ash
drink heaven’s rain,
if tears tell time,
then time heals pain”
Clashing Aubades
At last, the darkness dissipates
as sun o'er yonder mountain breaks
and, timidly, the world awakes
as freedom beakons in plague's wake.
Too soon the sunlight parts the drapes
as the harsh, cruel hands of fate dictate
and nighttime's bliss is thus erased
as moon beams fade out, chased away.
Toward dawning warmth I tilt my face
as lonely pupils, shrinking, ache
and lo! my neighbors congregate
as once again the world awaits.
From under blankets my hand snakes
as cold seeps in, I reach for lace
and find you gone without a trace
as my heart stutters, then deflates.
I step outside, my great escape,
as songbirds trill with faith and grace
and chiseled stresses thus deflate
as dewy springtime winds hydrate.
I spring up, fearful, start to shake
as quiet drowns me in its lake
and 'round the furniture I race
as loneliness shoots through my veins.
Fresh earthen scents swirl, then abate
as fragile em'rald grasses quake
and footsteps mar this reclaimed space
as I emerge with heedless haste.
Stale notes of coffee I now chase
as if the past few weeks were fake
and never did we share a steak
as shadows grew and music played.
'Neath cornflow'r skies, a friend's embrace
as clouds, unnoticed, change their shapes
and we make plans to loose the brake
as commerce doth renew its pace.
Soft howling, broken, pawing gates
as I resume my default state
and wonder why I've been replaced
/again/ by work and dinner dates.
Out of Our Hands
Divide the recycling to bottles and cans
Make playlists with only our favorite bands.
Slice the rose from our garden that dares grow a thorn
Paint the eyes of our children before they are born.
Keep our dogs in their cages lest they wander too far
Set the codes on our systems for doors left ajar.
Rake the leaves in the garden with dead grass beneath
Cut the sweets from our diet lest they stick to our teeth.
Halt the trees in their growing
Push the waves back to sea
Build a wall between peoples
That’s the way it must be.
The days are all planned
The maps drawn out
We must know every moment
Not a small shred of doubt.
There are secrets that whisper outside of our doors
There are ripples that push past the tiles of our floors
We cannot stop the wind nor the path of the sun
We can never predict when our days will be done
There is comfort in knowing the roads and the routes
In waiting for trains in our firmly-pressed suits
But we cannot live life trapped inside our binds
Can't forget to look up, see the moon as it shines
The world is a chessboard and we are the pawns
Who can’t glimpse the picture til after we’re gone.