Sparrow Wings

A gentle note rings across damp soil;
the sun yawns distant with orange hues.
Sparrow wings spread like uncoiled wants,
left to the caprices of the wind.
A beat, they brush the naked blue,
across the pristine white of looming clouds;
golden light flickers between them,
the day has come alight.
The sparrow vanished in a sea of cloud and light,
lost in the blue yonder.

Pieces Missing

Remember when we used to laugh?
It was all frolick and play,
not a worry under the blue sky.
Now I find myself trapped in an iron maiden of my own neglect.
Counting the seconds, filling the hours, in the dark of night.
Fearful of waking up to find my heart shriveled and old,
though my skin’s still taut and smooth.
Every word I utter falls dead to an empty auditorium,
nobody there to even throw much-welcomed scorn.
I scream with lips gently sealed, waves of grief crash uselessly against them.
No one shall know how deep the void scratches the frayed and tattered remnants of my soul.


What words pour out from this cleaved breast of mine,
that sow such failed seeds of misfortune.
There is no color in the space between my eyes
that can remove this stain of mortification.
Thus I smother my shame in the resolution of God’s grace, illusive as it may be; Their eyes shine not at the sight of me.
The simple truth paints blindness to grievances past.
Perhaps yet, I shall grow a tree called solitude, and learn to bear its fruit.
It shall not find me going hungry for the sustenance of kind words, I’d rather starve.