I Have Faith in Us

I have Faith in UsI Have Faith in Us

This time around
I won’t look for answers
in the dust and damp ash—
sometimes ideas are frail flowers.

After reading Corinthians
and begging for love,
you still don’t believe
there’s something waiting
for us.

But I do.

2017 April PAD Challenge: Day 24

Last of the Wild

Last of the Wild

Last of the Wild (A Tanka)

The winter wolves wait.
Hoping for the sleeping rain
without fear or blame.
From Genesis to today
disappearing like frail ghosts.

2017 April PAD Challenge: Day 23

The Salt Lick

The Salt Lick

The Salt Lick

When the time comes, he will probably
sprinkle just enough pity and proverb
upon our wounds to heal the breathing
rift we choked with myth and fatal exposés.

The antidote for allegory is not truth
but more allegory.

This is what he does—with flourish.

One good deed deserves another
and so we gather around the salt
lick for another night of fable,
poetry, and ballad to heal our souls.
~~~

2017 April PAD Challenge: Day 20

2017 April PAD Challenge: Day 21

Guilty

Add heading

Guilty

Once I was a daughter
with infinite innocent sleep
playing dress-up and walking on air

until the day I woke up.

Then I did what every poet did—
composed untamed rhyme
from prayer to prayer

like a solitaire ceremony,
rewriting my memory

without knowing why.

~~~

2017 April PAD Challenge: Day 19

The Fragile Inn

The Fragile Inn

The Fragile Inn

The morning clouds scatter over the earth
like a vapor, chimney smoke hovers then
grasps the curling tendrils and sets sail.

Men of dust are moving about with hushed
voices saying, “the grave is never full” and
“it’s a sad truth that folks gotta move out to

make room for babes moving in.”

The little guy, moaning for a strong hand
to reach down and save him, runs out the
door to bury his smile in the vacant flower

box. His sister sits on the front stoop with
Goodnight Moon and their mother’s treasure
box on her lap looking brave in her black dress.

~~~

2017 April PAD Challenge: Day 18

Dancing Alone for the First Time

Dancing Alone for the First Time

Every time you trip along a country road
warmed by your torn sneakers, dusting up gravel—

ears buttoned up with too much/too little sleep,
gawking at nothing serious, your eyes too soft
with hallowed tears, humming some old hymn for comfort,
as you wander onto the two roads diverging—

Every time you drift in the dark,
allow yourself a little mischief—

Wrap your arms around the grief
and dance until you love yourself

for the first time.

2017 April PAD Challenge: Day 17