Crushing butterflies

Those clouds
heavy with rain
resembling pain
sit up there
and just, utter their contempt
as they shuffle along
manifesting

while down here
pain resembles snow
with its weight
pushing, tugging; silencing life

crushing butterflies
till they themselves
become misty rainbows
when the sun breaks through

clouds

to understand
to be aware
to acknowledge

clouds
those blankets
of peacefulness and violence

we reach beyond
to that shroud
whence we came

perhaps to understand freedom
perhaps to be aware of love
perhaps to acknowledge our failures

And there are those clouds
gone in a whisper
in the time it takes to write a poem

Rain

Watching the rain
attacking your windows
you see it run; racing dribbles
wasted energy
liquid rope twisting, turning
trying to find a way in

You don’t notice it
fulfil its purpose
of distracting you
from your sorrow
your memories
your future

you don’t remember
anymore
you are flanked
as the rain seeps
into your skin
your blood
your thoughts

until
you see the rainbow
and like a sponge
you release it all

to become
weightless
free

immaculate

 

 

 

her song of life

I can smell the earth
after the rain

I can sense its delight
its forgiveness
and its compassion

I can feel a slight chill
after the rain

a breath
a breathing of textured sighs
a whispered kiss

I can smell the grass, the flowers; life
after the rain

I can imagine the gentle hiss, of the escape
its joy of knowing birth
and the freedom of release

I can smell and see the earth
during the rain

petals sodden
joyful, joyful, dancing
and her song of life

smells so good

sans liberté

such a thing
haunting and beautiful

ghosts of sound
you could call them echoes
ancient rumblings
sensuous vibrations
lost, feelings

such a thing
is there such a thing?

Could we catch the echo
seal it in jade
and hang it in the window

the sun would ask the rain for its tears
for it can only cry fire

the moon would ask the sun for its warmth
for it wants to give more

and the stars and the darkness would ask time
for an atom of its eternity to give the echo more life

for without freedom there is nothing

nothing but a rose in the shadows
haunting and beautiful

fragile