what is the past
but a dream mixed with nightmare
that seems to have happened,
has left evidence of occurrence,
in sweaty, twisted sheets upon waking?

like an archaeologist
we can dig and sift through layers
trying to understand
trying to interpret
but really we only come away
with a best guess,
a story that seems half fairy tale
from our present vantage.

it affects us though…
leaves wreckage and remnant
scattered in our lives;
but there is hope
we can scavenge the best bits
to fortify us for the future
that we might look forward
never to look behind again
always moving west
into the sun.

Glow like the morning;

There is light breaking

From your eastern horizon

And filling the world;

Rise like sun at dawn

And blaze a path before you

As you soar above it all

Leaving growth and spilling bright

Turbulent in your beautiful wake…

You are a source of life.

Mother’s bones

Are marrow beneath my skin

Keeping me sane

Through this terrifying life

Mother’s breath

Sings in my lungs

Distracting me

From prowling death

And she will always forever inspire

As she carries me through this fire

Mother’s heart

Rests in this chest

And i will take each precious beat

And pound out my remaining days

As a hammer sounding in the dark

Imagine being chained

Between the stones of

Desperation and loneliness

Like Prometheus on the mountain

While the ravens of guilt

Eat out your guts

Day by day

All for the crime

Of love.

May one of the stones

Find the strength to break

That the prisoner

May some clear day

Grasp freedom

‘Round it’s neck.

You glow

From the inside

As a lantern’s

hidden flame

Attracts the lost

Into your orbit

If the air still surrounds you

Wraps her arms around you

Pulls you close in embrace

Moving in and moving out

And she keeps you alive

And she lifts you too the skies

On great, warm thermals

Like a soft kiss pressed to flesh

She must want you to live

She must want your heart

To keep beating in your chest

The air must love you dearly

Or

Perhaps

You are merely a seed

Riding unwary upon currents

Pulled along

By a capricious god

Unconcerned about where

You land…

Unaware that you exist at all

So weekday do you do?

You breathe

You just keep

Breathing

One day

Then the next

Breathe.

you plant a tree together
and you nurture it in light
build up the soil with care
and prune from time to time
while it grows beyond you
into something great
as it gives fruit to eat
that shades through heat
that you might stand beneath
holding hand in hand
and consider the canopy of
this beautiful life
that lives for you
and you for it

Hope – I’ve struggled with hope this past year maybe more than any other time of my life. I see others struggling too – check out my column in this week’s Winkler Morden Voice & Altona Rhineland Voice

AI responds to prompts like a brain at sleep, creating dreamlike fluid images. Is it sleeping? What will it be when it awakes? Are we AI?

I have the heart

I have the soul

So much better

Than flesh

And bone;

Permanent,

Lasting,

Beloved.