living

Victim of Circumstance

I could tell in few words
how living takes hold, and death curses existence.
I could tell in melody of aching empty.
I can convey feelings,
as sun brings her morning breath,
as star dreams in time –
all this sensed with a word.

but, I cannot change fate,
make sense of where sense is not made
Knowing this, feeling, helpless
in understanding all is how it births and dies for purpose –
I cannot bring the why to front
The sight and senselessness of life stopped short.

even in knowing short lives matter most and touch and pull
with unscathed beauty,
I still can’t tell of how I feel when it seems the sun settled too soon.

Death makes this sacrifice so we live – why I and not you?
This world was not for such innocence.
Does this make the living unworthy of death?

IW

 

 

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Ambitious Hope

Sorry to piss on the parade
of flowers and sunshine,
but for some poor bastards
life doesn’t miraculously work out
no matter how hard-working
how smart, or how positive.

Often it is the luck of the
socioeconomic landscapes
birthing humanity.

IW

The Life Between

Am I between?
Reams of white waiting to be touched by colour.
The ink of souls, a screen with the word ‘Title’
Asks to frame a life in a question and answer.

The stroke of a brush, seeking to speak
What cannot be said with the few words humanity grasps at.

The twang and twinge of a string strung across wood
Nailed ungracefully, chimes take symphonic stock
Of days and nights where empty and full are nothing and everything
We are between.

We want to know who and why we are, and all we are is breath
Between life and death.

IW