We were a burning
forest fire.

What was evergreen
are now skeletons.

What was pure air
is now black smoke.

What was sweet rain
are now falling cinders.

We all know the story
how in flames we rise again.

For now let the ashes
be our warm bed

as we would remember
the day we were dead.

// 22 Aug 2019

Let the Ocean

If I were the ocean
I would claim your sadness,
I would take your pain
down my ocean floor.
I would caress your soul
right where it trembles
with a kiss.
I would knead you back
into pure ocean
as I would need you
back with all of me.

// 19 Aug 2019


It's nature's little wink
that we are where we need to be,
doing what we need to do,
finding who we need to find.

It's the "nothing" that changes us,
irreparably and irreversibly,
that too deep and obscure a sign—
that we often miss as it misses us.

// 18 Aug 2019


The clock strikes 12
and the shoe
is no longer missing.
it winds up
in the right hands
and all are looking
for the sole
that fits.
It is a risk she takes.
After all, time
if well lived
is worth it.
The clock strikes 12
and the shoe
is found.

// 17 Aug 2019

Open Wound

To him who gives a little too much
his heart has turned into an open wound:
If his sole intent is to give as such
what of receiving has my soul assumed?

// 16 Aug 2019