Cormorant (poem)

cormorants-flying-over-cross-lake

Strings of feathered jewels—

Kilometre long, wing-span wide—

Swing their way offshore,

Droplets of former slumbers

Cutting waves that break

A mere metre below.

And yet for all the activity,

All the life in motion,

Air remains calm and silent,

Noises of picine harvests

Forgotten echoes of

Never-ending plunder.

Lines cross lines,

Ballets borne on air,

Eddied whorls tipping

Extended wings askew,

Halting premature end

Of missioned journeys.

Home is the current’s flow,

The wind’s dance;

Time’s of no consequence

When birds take wing.

cormorant-flying-2

In sights

Searching

Sad hooded eyes

Look me over,

Stare into me,

Searching my soul

For empathy,

A kindred spark,

Recognition

That we are one.

Lives held sacred,

Spirits unchained

Despite coiled wire.

Acknowledgement,

We’re each encaged,

Trapped by limits,

Captive of views

Held by others;

Defining us,

Confining us,

Refining us

To imagery;

A dull shadow

Of former selves,

Bleeding vibrance

To worlds of grey.

But hope remains,

The spark still burns;

Words unspoken

Continue tales

Yet unwritten.

Share my story

Of wilds now gone

That glow in eyes

Hooded and sad.

Cages

You are your own inspiration

An actor friend recently expressed “I don’t wanna” about leaving town for an upcoming gig. I assumed it was less about fearing the gig and more about leaving home, but I wanted to let her know it wasn’t about wanna or even hafta.

Enjoy.

dream