There’s the story of dirt and soil A hand that moves the mountain Will of transformation Will of healing Majick is the sweat in the rain Removing one to replace with another Building the shelter Time is a legacy Committing to the act Loss in this fragile fire Heart filled with ashes Don’t vacate the pain Painting by DHBogucki, 2020.

I didn’t want to write today But everything is at the surface I didn’t have time today But it’s already too late I gave in today Because the jolt of consciousness that gave me liberation Is my only voice I can’t today Because time will not stand still

I know what death looks like Its jaw eternally hanging open Awe and guile slipping through the gap in Its teeth The puppeteers hand mechanically spitting out words for the weak Too afraid to raise their voice Too stunned to question the line winding to the cliff

Hollow on the inside You describe the outline of love with precision Its rotting carcass heaped at your door Even in this world of beauty You tug the hemline of dread It’s not of you to leave The cycle of your own making Pushing death to the surface A new Daisy for the sunshine Clinging fuels your hunger So you hack off another limb Standing and leaving too simple a solution

And how you got here. There is nothing more exciting than the mundane, life in its weary drabness as you drag on into your late forties. Especially if you have been living life as a constant midlife crisis. …

Trading safety for a free heart I married you by commitment No ink on paper No government decree I wanted trust building Patience perfecting Will of iron bending from your tears Shaking in the light of lessons I could never trust my own desire Self protection, and the determination to flee from every crime I have stolen my heart back so many times Nothing lasted until your healing heart shone its cracks The beauty of its scarred surface A map of lines telling the rarest of stories Strength is built by the toil of forgiveness.