skittish

haiku

young buck with antlers

new sprouted, skittishly poised

does then bend to eat

fog murmurs

light fog hides the Pacific

rolling in quiet and muffling sounds

of normal day activities to distortion

until even early afternoon has a chill

a haunted feel and buckled deformation

that murmurs a garbled transformation

to a world we only thought we knew

healing greater than wounding

“Healing has greater power

 than wounding and inflicting pain”

implies that love has greater power

than fear, and i wonder at that

given that fear is so abundant

and primitive a newborn reacts

in fear to falling yet accepts warmth

and nourishment as part of self

so overcoming fear with love

is a learned response

but overcome, it does

for those with courage  

and it takes love to even attempt

to try to heal

response

your call is important to us

text to us that you fear going to school

not for bullying or humiliation

but for the close sound of gunfire

whimper that you and small siblings

huddle to sleep in your car and have no

access to running water, let alone

shower or clean clothes

cry out in the night that the adults

around you are stoned, drunk

or threatening to desire you

our next available representative

will be with you shortly

your call is important to us

weep in anticipation

anticipate a non-reality

hope for this or that to happen

fear the other because things never

seem to turn out well

it is all imaginings

cowering before the blow is struck

when you might wait for the pain

before crying

you got it

wandering, wondering

wishing i understood

laughing, unknowing

merely embarrassed

at my own incompetence

nothing is funny

in this state of confusion

no control over what the clues

tell will be, but i cannot read

i feel so alone

no longer able to bluff

or giggle fetchingly

so ma or pa will come rescue

wanting to show i am a grownup

though i know i am not

a tiny voice laughs: now you know

this is adulthood, friend

blue-purple

mauve bruising to thunderhead

as gold edges blue-purple clouds

sunset promise of anguish

to be faced in lone darkness

anger to be mellowed by night’s quiet

battle for peace

courage to be summoned to face

a rather-not reality and fears

i will admit to sadness and strip

delusion of control

“i” remain, depleted though i am

i will give what i can and keep

what i need to

dawn will come again with warmth

to swell the sight and smell of purple plums

dark of night

the ‘great white way’

was once the Milky Way

pondered by shepherds

their musings giving connection

to vastness above and beyond self

millennia before angels brought

‘tidings of great joy’

‘dark of night’

now conquered by fear-induced

electric lanterns that blind us

to that experience of belonging

to our universe and hasten

our separation from it

in our small fears

we conquer ourselves

swooping shadow

even a wren creates a shadow

flying above and trailing

a flapping bit of darkness

across the path in front of me

but the swoop of a bird of prey’s

sinister silhouette overhead

freezes breath and pulse

i can only imagine the terror

of a chick or rabbit with death

soaring between earth and sun

scenes we can feel

places with history speak

without words as though

we, too, experience

what has happened

within that setting

as though the archway writhes

or the rocks give witness

or billowing dust at the horizon

breeds terror, anticipating

marauding hoards

scenes we can feel

watching dark clouds gather

  the poem reached within me

describing a tree’s cognizance

of painful damage of storm and fire

rooted as it was, unable to run away

shuddering now in expectant fear

watching dark clouds gather – thunderstorm?

or fire?                                      

non-eqilibrium

funny how frightening

non-equilibrium engenders me

leaning toward walls

with each step

bumping into walls

to keep from falling

walking along

and suddenly veering

standing stock still

knowing i need to be down

but refusing to collapse

having already broken a rib

falling hard

even funnier

that it’s been my mind

that’s defined me all my life

and now my head

that’s going to kill me

dream as warning?

 dream scenes unsettle

so haunt our awakening

fearful, we wonder

coping

courage under pain

calm while acknowledging fear

willingness to take one day

at a time in order to heal

i cannot kiss it better for her

diabetes is a sneak fighter, attacking all systems

forgiving no mistakes, punishing all rebellion

damaging limbs, eyes, kidneys for every non-compliance

demanding daily obsequience and robbing future health

not yet

not yet

frightened? yes, a little

all my life i’ve been independent

but now the vertigo threatens; the pandemic limits

the grass grows to my waist; cobwebs drape from high ceilings

over six months i’ve grown old

but not old enough to give in

fear so deep

behind the mantra: “guns don’t kill people; people kill people”

must lie so deep a fear, so primal a distrust

a paranoia so terrifying that, to it, we willingly

sacrifice out children

slaughter of innocents

haiku

kindergarten child

drills for gun rampage lockdown

dad hugs tight good-bye

red sky in the morning

smoky red sky to the northeast

as though the mighty Columbia were hosting wildfires

but it is only – i hope – dawn

we’ve had fire near often enough in the past few years

to be wary of more and compassionate

towards all who suffer terror and loss and fire danger

after hearing Billie Holiday

fear and anger gnaw

what might grow compassionate

yield instead strange fruit