February 23, 2020

• a wilderness experience

  

   

  i have always buried poverty
  under dreams and poetry.
  sometimes i think i can feel the air
  from wings brushing my face
  when i try to lift clear of all that was,

  or all that was supposed to have been.

  being alone is a wilderness experience
  after ecstatic and terrified love
  that was rendered in an overwrought,
  over-ornamented frame.

  one day everything changed.

  dreams and poetry faltered
  after finding something fleeting to love.
  i wish i could have built strong bridges
  over the deep and widening gaps
  in the strength i so lovingly offered

  to a dream in need
  at the time

  • 6:04 am
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