Lament 13: Changing

I’m remaking myself
alone,
discarding patterns,
forging others:

Listening to waves,
smelling rain-damp earth,
talking back to crows,
ignoring stumbles,

I explore paths
previously unsought. 

Lament 12: Afterwards

Under noise,
I almost hear the music. 

Walking down stairs,
I sense a faint perfume. 

In the dark, my eyes cling
to the fading ember.

Consolations.  

Outdoor Rink

On the porch, at night in winter:
A street away,
the scrape of skates,
the slap of a puck. 

Another Lament

The terrible sting of sugar
doesn’t erase
my parents smiling into the camera, 
a cemetery behind them, 
my grandparents gravestone 
beside them. 

They all lie there 
now. 

Lament 10: Anger

Anger is easier than being
sad,
like a boil you can ignore
till it erupts.

Grief locks
your time
into a blur of absence
that can't be released.. 

Lament 9: Necessary Rituals

All my necessary rituals
hold me,
keep me
standing. 

All my necessary rituals
keep me
rigid
and stuck. 

All my necessary rituals
are collapsing
letting me fall,
bruising me. 

What rituals
can support
what I need
now?

Lament 8: On Writing

Writing at the raw edge
opens the dimness
for a brief glimpse 
of my now. 

Writing at the raw edge
unlocks the gates
of my whirling
for a moment. 

Writing at the raw edge
spews my dark lava
onto a screen
for a moment of now. 

This Bleak Midwinter

Christmas lights the colour of twilight,
and a heritage nativity set, - 
A bleak celebration avoiding
plastic Santas or plastic regrets

Awaiting a new year, watching changes
from remembered winters,
listening to the noise of fools
heard on the tv news.

The Colours of Twilight

New Year’s Greeting