Sunday, July 30, 2017

Somewhere a baby wakes

Somewhere a baby wakes

stretches arms to the sky

blood speckled with flecks
of my dna and spirit
I cannot hold nor see him 
separated by barriers of 
hatred and indifference
Somewhere a baby wakes
and though I cannot hold 
nor see him – I feel him 
running in the fragrant grass
of an endless spirit savannah
sliding through my veins he 
or she laughing in the curve
of my arms – our eyes shimmer 
hearts pulse together -
Somewhere a baby wakes 
stretches arms to sky and
souls meet



I sail a sliver of a silver boat
canvas snapping round the bend
heat and wind follow in my wake as
I sail a sliver of a silver boat
I avoid the arc of surrender –
scan the horizon for helpmates
but in the end in a splendid splash
of archaic modernism I bend to the
curve of the slap of the sail around
the bend of this spinning marble and
pick up my single stitch of shine – my
tiny trip in this colossal sea as I sail
my sliver of a silver boat – alone the
scent of frangipani, futility and hope
pushing me onward … ever onward 
I sail my sliver 

The Sunday Whirl