Last leaf

Last leaf falling from the twiggered arms
of wintered tree, riding soulful, senseless,
down to waiting ground; dried breath of
seasons, crinkled edge and colour dying,

so do we all, follow, in slow, descending
footsteps, toward the beckoning grave,
into the bosom of deathly night, where
the sun shines brighter in that blackness,

and shuddering forgetting takes hold, to
soothe the pain of relentless years, and
to whisper again, those songs we once
knew, and could sing, but had forgotten.

Did you hear me?

Did you hear me, when I called,
from that soft spot in deep night,
half asleep, half awake, wondering
if it was all real, or merely some

imagining, and still you were there,
waiting, in the belly of expectant
day, to resume the place you had
held, in my heart and in my life?

Tender self, how you wept through
languished days, and dried your
bitter eyes in sullen darkness, hoping
that the pain would ease and heart

would once again begin to breathe,
steady, softly, slowly, as if it held
to hope, encouraged by the sudden
tweetings of awakened small birds,

struggling through dawn's embrace,
holding to the hands of angels,
whispering through neatly sown
dreams of endless possibility.

Passing years

Through passing years the self is constant,
remaining in that place of known being,
no matter what changes are wrought upon,
flesh and face and outward appearances,

feeling always as the I and Me of identity,
whether six or sixty, or girl, woman, wife,
mother, sister, daughter, friend, cousin, or
any of the names we tie to ourselves as we

pass through time as the unique being that
we were born, and do remain, even as the
costume of our material self, wears, and
softens, folding, relaxing, feeling into new

places of physical shape and form, and as
roles change, and labels become worn and
shabby, and even gender loses meanings it
once held, and we return to the place where

we began, knowing it for the first time as
self grown, fully ripened, ready for bursting
into death, broken asunder, the seeds of
futures filling, within the quietened mind.

Trap

Creep of vine to chill the trap,
hide the crack of time,
bury diverse past and hope;
tassel cold, mad mind.

Plaster full the monument,
mist the memories,
lucid is the epitaph -
grave holds who we've been.

Tawny is the sunset,
at the port of death,
born again eternally,
sufferings at rest.

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2016/05/29/wordle-253/

Autumn

Shivered shedding shrugs on high,
listing, drifting, sullen leaves,
falling down and down to die,
so the end that Autumn brings.

Brittled green of frozen grass,
huddled into sodden earth,
bearing full the frozen task,
waits for Winter's heavy birth.

Straggled, struggled branch and twig,
sulking dark to threaten sky,
looming, lusting, overhead,
frosted tears on singed bark sigh.

Waiting always through the days,
holding deep the hope of life,
so does nature plan her ways,
readying, to claim her tithe.
 

Raw

It was raw, that place, where you wounded me,
even though you had no understanding of the blow,
nor that words had become a weapon which could
injure, even kill, and time and distance blinded

eyes, which could no longer see, and yet, I
dreamed of vision being restored, of time
opening up to savage you with light, that the
reflection could spread around and beyond

the weeping sore, and whisper healing breath
upon the seeping flesh of heart, and soul, and
mind, of all that I had ever thought myself to be,
and yet, without it, the pain became a force which

pushed me on, seeking for my own sure bandage,
something which could wrap around and hide for
a time, the truth of what had been, a salve for hurt
which had no name; such are the raw moments.

Mission

We stand upon the edge of life
and search the track for sense,
itch of time is in night's pay,
the bell sounds recompense.

The willing start the journey soon,
with mission not yet known,
and in the deepest part of mind,
desire to learn is born.

Gloss of hope can be soon lost,
the gleam of distant truths,
no longer spring eternal;
for age has outlived youth.

So take the time to ponder well,
the path that you will walk,
life's mission takes some pondering,
to reap the best rewards.

https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2016/05/22/wordle-252/