Poetry

Hidden In A Depression

What once was trapped beneath the doughy mud

for winter upon winter until eons passed,

has been unearthed with utmost care.

Experts consulted and plotted the course, giving

delicate attention with pick and brush

until a Mammoth emerged,

tusks raised to the sky,

blinking off the garish light.

She trumpeted FREEDOM!

Glorious freedom at last

and filled her lungs with fluid air

that gave and gave, oh generous Mother Earth.

Of course,

she knew how quick the tides could turn,

and shaking off the crusty mud,

trotted across a verdant land

where others of her kind laid entombed.

Poetry

The Statistician

Why should I explain myself

with words and gestures that knock you down

like a wave crashing upon shells and sand,

then dragging you back for more?

No, I will only weave my thoughts

and leave them hanging with the mist-

the decision to walk into the fog is yours.

I will air out my head

and move along my path,

solitary unless you join.

For I will not force an alliance

or clench your shirt in my fists,

begging for your loyalty.

My lips are sealed-

yet still they move.

Poetry

The Barrier

The world outside,

so far from reach-

an invisible barrier between.

If I were to walk to the window

and place palm upon cool glass,

I would experience,

at least touch, the last partition that separates me from endless motion,

from life and color and change.

But I can’t move beyond

that which holds me hostage

with cords and tethers that burn my consciousness,

searing stripes deep on my soul that remind me-

I AM TRAPPED

in this scorched wasteland.

The barrier is ME.