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photo by Debra A. Griffin, dagworks.com


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The Storm

Mare Tomaski © Feb 2011


The storm comes more quickly now
how do they feel it?
The winged
The crawling
The swimmers

I feel it in the ancient cavernous memory
of bones and blood
form and fluid remember
where we came from
where we will have to return

We've fallen far from intended
can I sit in silence and just wait?
Can I meet the oncoming
with only a glance
a steady gaze
a quiet heart
empty of longing

Or will I scream in torment and surprise?
I have no hope for myself
for all my hope flies
beyond a place I can see
Hope flies crawls and swims with them




 



The Landing

Mare Tomaski © Feb 2011


It is too many things she may have said
the landing on leaf or branch or blade of grass
The space between belly and leaf, heart and branch
her tiny thin feet and the blade
The breathing of both deafening in my veins








The Exquisite Risk

Mare Tomaski © Feb 2011


Bring it up to your heart
the steady even glide of guts on steel
When struck just so
they may feel the voice of the wood

Or

The voice of their own silent
grief
longing
and despair
might spring forth

For a moment something may awaken in them
Sleeping giants all
What will they do with the silence then
When it tears them open
to all they forsake
laying them naked
at the altar of creation

The exquisite risk...



          photo by Debra A. Griffin, dagworks.com



photography by my friend: Debra A. Griffin ©2011 (permission required for use)