I have a song of sorrow in my heart. you only know. The first born light today shines on me. while I suffer notes of
Tag: Poetry
My Hand is on the Lock
Do I keep things out? Or in? I cannot tell. I would not say. Forged bars are where doors would compose an opening.
where?
My head is humming. Drumming. I am a weed in the wind. Pummeled and blown about, Thoughts of spreading, flying to another….where? And rooting there.
The Two Betweens
Where the light is Between the night and dawn, the sound of waking birds calls out and then responds across the view. Not alone. But…
