The Gravity of Home

They’re sending out bird machines pasted to the sky over a smoke-filled collage of clouds and burning buildings. In the silence of departure, on a pathway of storms, I turn away from the life I’ve known towards the unforeseen, tangled in bare branches, winter, all of it retreating from a world that contains no escape.

Between the above and the below, floating uneasily, ghostly silhouettes shadow my footsteps as I head blind into a collision with the invisible horizon, held captive by a threshold that seems to extend forever.

No shelter appears here on this road of leaving.

Clinging to tattered
wings, sparrow searches for some
anywhere to land.

Merril at dVerse has given us some wind-tossed paintings to use as inspiration for Ekphrastic verse. I chose the painting below, by Joseph Farquharson, ‘Cauld Blaws the Wind Frae East to West’

Dear Refugees

We have heard
and noted your cries
for help.  Un
fortunate
ly our sovereign borders
are currently closed.

We fear that
we must turn away
from any
images
of drowning, freezing, starving.
They disturb our sleep.

But we are
not completely heart
less.  We will
send you our
Condolences, as well as
our Thoughts and Prayers.

For earthweal, where Sherry, after bringing us up to date on the flooding in her Canadian homeland, asked us to write Verse Letters: a form of address, akin to dramatic monologue, to all parties involved – letters to the lost, perhaps; to those who caused the extinction;  or to those of us who are in the middle.

Destiny

destiny 2s

The end arrives without fanfare—no one
scatters ritual words to take back fate.
The dice are rolling, cards drawn—still no one
moves to rearrange the portents—too late
they fail to cohere, fail to integrate
the glimmer in the void with its descent,
the form with its reflected accident.
Maps destroy the future, erase the past
with tangled nows that keel, reorient–
in alloyed flames the dark remains, uncast.

destiny 1s

They were born and taken back, surrounded
by places they could never occupy–
left far behind, callously abandoned,
imprisoned in locations without time–
endless words and rules warped to justify
exclusion—hope withholding tomorrow,
wheels turning over in endless sorrow,
a constant shifting into reversal–
running counterclockwise back to zero–
a journey of relentless rehearsal.

For dVerse open link night, hosted by Linda, two somewhat related dizain poems.  Dizain is the poetic form for July, introduced to us by Rosemary.  I found it a challenge, and have been worrying these words all week.

destiny 2 close up s