Spirit Song

We go from the graveyard. It is
enveloped in silence once again.
Yet trees blossom with birdsong
filtering down to the hoard
of black clad mourners walking by.
Effortless melody humbles
the feeble tunes we sang.
Our discordant attempt to speak of
the unseen in that liminal space is
lacking when you hear the bird song
a rite both spiritual and elemental.

wilderness is when…

Wilderness is when:
So I’m told, a place is undiscovered, wild, untamed.
and temptation waits with eager longing. But wilderness
is closer in a digital age if your work is pencil by default.
When all around broadcast happy lives the silent
screen says all is not well. Wilderness is
sitting on a street corner as invisible as air.
In the world of must have you manage the
day to day of getting by. Expecting to understand
getting lost after a first hello. When the only sound
is background noise and voices fade into hubbub.
Wilderness is a list of jobs out of reach, beyond,
beneath your skills that are deemed no longer
important. When your outward appearance says
your doing fine, inwardly crying for help. Wilderness
is the slow increase of distance between you and
those whom you love because you have forgotten
how to say I love you. Wilderness is not absence,
but constant presence. Where internally everything
makes complete sense, but none of those around you
seem any more to understand. When trying to help
makes everything worse. Wilderness is feeling alone
in a world of 6 billion. At the end of the line do we take
it all away with an easy fix, too good to be true offers
and loans that will never be repaid. Rescue us
from our illusions, lest we fall into temptation.

Candlemas Bells

If there were a flower for prophecy it
would be the snow-white bells arriving
early in time for Candlemas arrogant
even a brash flower cutting through the
cold earth it comes resilient, hardy.
Beauty beguiles its strength.
Amidst the darkness expectant of the
warmth to come our instinct is to light
candles. An incandescent dream.
Inefficient of light but life enough to stir
the soul into speaking. The snowdrop
harbinger of those who hear the silent
call to defiance of convention.