My Substrata is Weakened

bygone cracks lay deep occasionally finding sunlight to be hidden, pasted over with deflections, denial till anew, they reappear ended, they’ll never be but healed, scars, stigma stitched, held by threads of creativity an open heart, and truth, always truth © 2013 by DC Lessoway

Aging…

as we age how the outlook changes towards life, loss perhaps learned patience contains the once youthful furor perhaps cycles of at-hand experience frames a pallet mottled with joy, grief perhaps we choose, conscious or no to pause, watch, maybe make sense of the spectacle of the unworldly with a smile of woe, perhaps recollection © 2013 … Continue Reading Aging…

chock full of moments

moments some, you wake up, sweating from some, you shudder, grateful you made it, having escaped, dark places then comes those beautiful consistently stemming from beautiful thought, action a stranger’s benevolent gesture a smile on a stormy day collection of such moments and lessons therein extracted fashion an essence color … Continue Reading chock full of moments

Shed

in tears because the innocent have to die in this country, theirs, and others in tears because many put gifts above their own happiness their own needs in tears because politicians, like children bicker, squabble, then smiling stand on the wreckage of a once beautiful country In tears because Aboriginal … Continue Reading Shed

Rescues Me

in forty-eight years beheld, these eyes joy, grief, love, angst, melancholy of widest shades in exhaustive measures external are triggers of delight, woe, adoration yet I know within me stems worry, depression subjugating friendless isolation vexing my most patient friends, family how very bleak it seems till a child’s smile … Continue Reading Rescues Me

Anger

simmers in the belly acidic, fiery, cradled fury in wait for, a splintered door any portal liberating rage all needed, inspiration a target, person, place, thing till brutal exhaustion flushes the reservoir calm again, again © 2012 by DC Lessoway

Metamorphose

In the hours of darkness I am alone, amidst my fragrant cedar curls in a hushed refuge one half my length in width, one and a quarter in length, one half tall. Grimy, salted, worn utensils scattered around me. In this silence my only companions are up in the deepest … Continue Reading Metamorphose