oct-22-2016-sol-eye

as if I’ve arrived in the artic
as the sun bids adieu
for six months

as if a fog creeps over the city
enveloping structure and people
and won’t leave

as if Sol chose to set, find another
place, happier, more content, a less
overcast, locale

as if a crowd formed around me and
I cannot speak, hear, then they turned
into bars of a prison

as if a deep ache sought me out
razed me to the earth, till only
ashes remain

as if the ground around me fall
my roots wither, wane to a
barren trunk

as if the light at the end of the
tunnel is not there as I’m in
a cave

as if

photo and poem © DC Lessoway

feb-24-2018-snow-branch

that blue sky
against white, bare
branches of slumbering trees
uncommon silence, except
squeaking footfall, marking
those before, the air, unsullied
carrying no scent, fresh
as glints, twinkling crystals
blind me, memory’s avalanche
of youth’s vigor, at play
in blanched fields
benumbed joy, ice-bound there
in the murk of memory, comes
comes, comes, warmly
pause

Photo and Poem © 2018 by DC Lessoway

http://www.wendyd.ca

nearing 10 years, already

ups, downs, the gruelling

the heartbreaking, the blissful

companion, travel mate, friend

my intimate confidant

through turbulent change

smooth waters

smiles in her challenges

makes me laugh

shoos away my gloom

in her arms today

as the day this was taken

the world, the callous, brazen place

fades away

Photo by Wendy D
Poem by DC Lessoway

dec-11-2017-01

so often we seek light
where better, grander ideas lay
where a bold Sol grants clarity

still, too, solicit shadowed corners
there, secluded riches await, affixed
mine trauma, release truths, cleanse

light or shadow, when confronted
will whither to your rooted power
bringing luminosity in night, shade in day

photo and poem © 2018 by DC Lessoway

DC-tear

low ebb comes, again
my sword, shield against
dragging hurt, out of reach
comes cyclical thoughts
not good enough, not good enough
not good enough, not good enough

not good enough, not good enough

till comes a realization, late, so always late
like a dish accidentally pushed to the floor
you think, “why didn’t I see that?”
comes, comes, comes
this thought, this meditation, this intention

fuck you

fuck you this hurt
fuck you these tears
fuck you this insecurity
fuck you this deep-seated
self-anger of “I’m not good enough!”

fuck you, I’m going to do my best
if others don’t like it, not my business
fuck you, this hurt
fuck you

photo and poem © by DC Lessoway

75861_467664716400_3573895_n

governments quarrel, bicker
to war, to war, comes a cry
not of you, or I, but of those
protected by cannon fodder
for pride of country!
sacrificing women, men
for the safety of our citizens
on the other side of the world!

as a blood spattered child, alone
weeps for his parents

© by DC Lessoway

sky-dancer-jun-25-2017

of ice clinging to
winging dust, fleeting in
duration, immense in breadth
gaze gravitates upward
in repose
each eye deduces its own
horse, spider, swimmer
according to each state
of being
mine own mind alights
upon memories of ancient
cave paintings of people’s
long ago
perhaps, they too
saw in the sky
their own joy

poem and photo © DC Lessoway