Sunday, January 19, 2020

Even This Twilight

We have lost even this twilight.
Pablo Neruda

A green gloom pervades
this lilypad hiatus
where we hover
above water
below sky
like dragonflies
who have lost
their sense of direction.
We, who have chosen
to be blind
to each other,
see yet where tendrils
of the past grow
and we cling, wings inert
too afraid
of what it means to let go.

Practising the art of writing the Flash 55.

Friday, January 17, 2020

Is this a message?

And you wonder, is this a message, finally, or just another day?
Eleanor Lerman

Life has a funny way
of revealing itself to you:
the closest star burns
its unwieldy light against your eyelids
and you commence with
the patterns of whatever peculiar
plot line is your own,
impelled towards
an imaginary conclusion
unreachable as it may be
but sometimes you remember
all stars are still shining during the daytime,
not only the sun,
and you let the sadness go.