Pieces
Burning buildings
You breathe deep, and then again.
The fragments of your history sometimes coalesce into
a great devastating burning building
far beyond repair. Here the pain shifts into something solid
and becomes a torch to melt the very last
standing brick. Homes become gardens again — weeds and
tiger lilies covering the wrecked foundations
alone in the wind until the rest of the demolition gets around
to clearing the patch.
And peace? Yeah, it’s in pieces too, raked away into
submission and frailty and life so far away
turned into shards of lost feelings — wounds are given a mouth
but no way to speak, only shriek. And you think shifting the darkness takes just one
more book, another sleepless morning
while trees are alight and the smoke covers fragile vision.
And so you think there is great safety
in hanging around water, forever standing in it up to your ankles
looking at the sands around you and
wondering if you might be able to craft your own hour-
glass. Fixed in tiny circles, the way of loving becomes an exercise
in turning…
