Overwhelmed
As they are
By the inexplicable
So I settle in
Allow the divine
To speak for itself
No matter how many times
I look into myself
Listen to my spirit
I find someone new
I remind myself
These are all
Acts of creation
Rather than discovery
Let nature speak
The last act
Of a once reticent sun
This vibrant glimmer
This display of possibility
But the long night had broken
People woke from deep slumber
Able to find their way
Even before the morning fog cleared
The darkness
Became day
The grimness
Became hope
Grim hope
Bleak finale
Reset: next!
Below the deck
A roiling rift
Divides our world
Apart, we drift
But let us take
A moment, slow
To contemplate
Terrain below
I’m sure we’ll find
On valley floor
Our common ground
Then peace restored
Standing on the ledge
Letting rage flow away
Wounds upon my soul
Close and begin to heal
Spectator at the edge
Close enough to feel the spray
Of power’s fearsome rush
I scramble up an ebony mound
To find a landscape of ebony mounds
Growing to distant mountains
All of the same ebony skin
“At least,” I think, out loud
Into the air so dry
It swallows up the words
Right off my tongue
“the falling sun seems less
Like a fire
On a cast-iron skillet.”
Pix to Words 