Dark

 

The shadow at the edge

morphs with the light,

it tricks the eye.

It swallows sunshine,

harbours sinners,

blurs the lines and stretches night.

It rages through the forest

on a whisper,

stealing sight.

We are hostage,

blind and naked,

—birds have wings.

They all take flight.

I am grounded, rooted, tied down —

my bark has little bite.

I only know:

look upward. 

Keep reaching for the light.

 

◊

 

Impure

 

Fear darkens the days.

The storm, the rain,

heavy, slow.

Desperate need blurs the edges,

spilling, smudging,

one moment into the next

and the next and

the next.

 

Sunlight fleeting,

glaring

in its scarcity.

—Afraid?

Too concerned with

glow

and grace

to let itself be glazed with

rawness of rain,

like acid

burning through golden sugar grains.

 

And the sun wonders:

How did it all become

so unsweet?

 

◊

 

Autonomy

 

I gave up striving for obedience,

I search for understanding,

I don’t expect perfection,

just steady growth.

Mess and moods and mayhem,

Monsters beneath the

beds and in them,

within us but within us,

lightness, too,

driving back the tide,

the sea of voices

chanting, 

haunting,

cursed with pride.

 

◊

 

Inner Child Collection 2025

 

 

Image by Angelica Vaihel via Pixabay