If you go far enough into the mountains
They will close around you
bewitch you like a ring—
the one you wear or wore or will wear
to remind you of faith love loyalty—
the vague promises of youth.
They will take you in whole,
larger than life, a legend of your dreams
the spring of self and joy in your feet
belief of forever warm in your belly
a smell like daffodils leading you further
toward the highest—the ram-gamboled—
rocky, wisp wreathed planes.

If you go far enough, as few do—
If you step past the last wire’s barb,
past the jeep track that runnels away,
while others peek through shuttered gaps
at the bruised sky swinging an arm against them,
grinding their knees gritty in belief
that knees will shape a twisted wind’s pity—

If you go far enough into the wild
you will pass milk river
which…

There are rules to be followed

guidelines to be remembered

to be followed to the tee

before I can call my self a woman

a lady like appearance

and that ever-present grin on my face

smiling from ear to ear

just to please you and ease you into the life

as you please

I should bow down in obedience

should never raise my voice

walk with the stoop of  discipline

and  eat with your hand

with the freedom

you have handed me on the plate

Like I was the chosen one, you see

Oh! that skirt is a little shorter than we expected

see it clearly fails to keep those lurking demon inside their skin

Now, you have shown them

too much flesh

now they will come out

and rip you into shreds

will devour your soul from within

“I told you” they will say

keep your voice down

the patriarchy can’t handle you pitch

they are tone-deaf…

On the horizon
Where earth and ocean meet the sky
Where two worlds collide
This is where my heart resides
Always at the divide
If you pay attention
You can see it in my eyes.

The sun and the moon
Indifferent in their ways
Are unaware this place
Ignorant their position
As they drift aimlessly through space
Never knowing their power
Not understanding
The part that they play
In deciding our fate
In dictating the difference
Between the nights and the day.

Oh, but in the soft twilight
There is no day, there is no night
And in this balance
But for a moment
All is right.

Curtain

Adept at withdrawal, it retreats.
How appropriate, we think,
that its body curls
with the wind’s
tug, offering
only the
slightest
resistance. Then
it returns,
bringing to mind
the habitual offender
whose discomfiture
lies in choice,
the fear
of enclosure
removed. The
forward glance.
And back again,
whispering its
edict: concede, reclaim.
Give and take. We are as one.

“Curtain” last appeared on the blog in July 2017.

Sorry it’s not celebratory, Lillian. For the dverse open link night, a haibun I wrote at the beginning of the week. Another insignificant death. There are so many here. Compensated a little by finding, the same evening a couple of toads nestled up together beneath a tree, waiting for the rain.

Today a young bird died, a blackbird, sick perhaps or dropped by the hovering buzzard, mortally injured. It crouched in the grass alone, waiting to die. It died before midday, behind the log pile. Refusing to eat, no idea of where was home, drawn to the blackbird fuss from the distant trees and then renouncing. Finches were twittering overhead, a woodpecker chipping away, a pigeon cooing. It died, one wing outstretched, like a hand, not knowing why, knowing nothing beneath the implacable sun, except that death was coming. How many stretch out a hand, a wing, a paw in…