The Heavens are Shattered

This bare tree framing the sky lays
bare the state of my soul:
a little bit empty
now and then
I might be seen through
but this too is gift:
the tree frames sky
and I frame why.

Branches cut up what is on high just
like lead pieces glass together by dividing:
the power of the line meets
the strength of the translucent.
The heavens are shattered
and so beautiful…

No Truck with Deception

The sky holds no
truck with deception – nor
does it countenance
circumvention. It is
the soul of the earth:
soul, and skin.

The sky’s shudders
announce that You
are nigh and it
drips at
Your caress.

We wait below, as
dermal cells,
to and fro:
Now – shaking under shiver
Now – languishing under sigh.
Now – weeping at such beauty.

To Be in this Poem

This poem is not penned for you.
It serves but one purpose: it
stays my soul, purging it of
clutter clanging about
and wearying
me with
din.

This poem is
for my calm
my balm
but I will share it
with you if you need
a distraction, a subtraction
of all musts that
foment in your life, like
mine.

Time.

Now. Time to breathe,
just to breathe, to be
in this poem
exhaling
inhaling
me.