Saturday, May 13, 2017

All the Trees Will Die & Then So Will You

When we are broadsided,
by really the most dreadful news,
moments that frighten breath, so it
tangles itself among ribs, pleading
don’t make me go out there,
red rain, rip tide!

Intrepid heart, storm dancer
gather a deep gasp. Let it pry loose
the diaphragm, push out the coward breath - 
feckless guinea hen
diaspora of wasps. It can be sustenance of elsewhere.

And allow no anxious intruder
to hunker down,
taking premise that suffering
can homestead here – no rank chatter
to foul the bright pump-house,
banging about tongue and bellows.

This moment, married to eternity,
dances with glaciers, typhoons, diatoms, kudzu.
And death was never a stranger,
maybe alchemist, liberator, owl.
Even so we live on, and
again like the trees.

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