Posts Tagged ‘conversation’

Mission of Mercy

Tuesday, March 19th, 2013

The robins came in the rain
To take the worms away.
Mother told me they were drowning
And the birds lent their wings
For a rescue mission
That taught the creatures
Of the earth, what the sky
Felt like beyond just a dream.
That the robins whisked them away
From mud puddles deeper
Than the well I watch Father dig
That seemed to stretch from earth
Back to sky all over again.
Mother told me worms couldn’t swim
Because their arms never grew right.
Kind of like how I never grew right.
Will the robins save me
When the waters come too high?
Of course they will honey,
And they will teach you to fly.

But Mother lied.
I watch the robin’s beak pierce
The earth like a kraken’s claw
Dividing land from sea
But the way was not clear
And the sojourners never made it through.
The worms surface from the earth
Hoping to find air that wasn’t drowning
In water, but the water was rising fast
Into a flood that would sweep them away.
The jaws of hungry animals
Pried into the earth and wrenched
Their bodies from the softened ground
Like daisies fresh for picking
Even though they were ready,
They where ripped from their roots
Body, soul, and all to be devoured
It was no rescue mission but a massacre masked
In the form of a red breasted beast

I sat watching through fogged windows
And wondered, if these monsters with wings
Veiled their murder in missions of mercy
What would my rescuer be?


Write in Pen

Monday, September 27th, 2010

Write in Pen
He says blandly
I look up surprised
Always use a pen
Pencils are worthless
He blows out smoke
From a drooping mouth
Pulled down by age
If you want your work
To be serious
Write in pen
All else will be forgotten
If it can be erased,
It will be erased.

I look at the old pencil
Sitting in my hands
It had grown small
And grungy
From repeated and relentless use
But I always write in pencil
I say as I watch
His indifference
Smirking at me
Over the top
Of a wilted old newspaper
He shrugs
Then you will be forgotten
That was all he said
As he folded his paper
Dropped his cigarette
Snuffing it out
With the toe
Of his fancy shoes
I told myself to forget him
His words meant nothing
Just smoke and mirrors
From a strange old man
Yet here I am writing in pen