Still working on this poem, but posting anyway!
This earth
absorbing
your blood,
to give rise,
to new life.
For years
capturing
your tears,
to bring waves,
of change.
Your hands,
imprinting
on this land,
deserving most,
the promise owed.
Your skin,
collecting
in the dust,
coating the very structures,
built to keep you contained.
But the steady heartbeat,
of your feet,
are battle cries,
that the Earth,
who has mothered your dead,
recognizes and liberalizes.
Reading some Mary Oliver poems have inspired a few poems out of me today. Love her poems and need to buy some of her books.
Morning
When I dare to wake up early,
still half asleep and groggy,
doubt ripples like the breaking sun—
What have I done?
Then—
the cardinal call tells,
the trees to rise like citadels,
and all the strange shadows,
repose,
into familiar things.
My slumbering dreams,
long forgotten,
as the world blossoms—
and everything seems possible.
Breeze
I find solace,
in the way,
the wind whispers,
through the trees,
as if you,
are haunting,
me.
unwrithings 