Inside is Outside
Poems
Barking Spirits
He strolled through the frost covered tombstones,
The snowflakes hung over the enclosure,
Making their slow descent to the benumbed ground.
He watched the trees that stood still in the winter breeze,
He knew they lay dormant waiting for opportunity to flourish,
Their dead leaves sprinkled over the graves like confetti.
Their cold roots digging deep into the crowded soil,
Pushing through the dry vessels of the deceased,
Looking to harvest the littlest quantity of water.
He appreciates what goes on underneath his feet,
Aware of this haunting intersection of past and present,
It gives him a sense of presence in the otherwise dead air.
And on walks the gravedigger alone, in the abundance of company.
Butterfly
A silent cocoon awaits its arrival,
It hangs from a slender strand of fiber.
It hangs seamlessly, untouched by its milieu,
An unspoken agreement of nature.
Unscathed by the elements of order,
Absorbing them in each medium.
It entails time to ripen its form,
Using its divine knowledge as a mould.
And when it is ready to expose itself,
It tears through the cocoon,
And all stand awe-struck in the beauty of this manifestation.
Wooden Tears
The trees outside cry,
Where do these tears go?
Their leaves stand strong in the abundance of light,
What is the source of this grit?
Their trunks embrace the earth with colossal mass,
Why must they emit such trust?
Their roots tear deep into the land,
Why must they grow into unknown depths in search of water?
The trees outside cry,
They cry for us, they cry for you, and they cry for me.
They do this for the sake of divine authority,
They do this sightlessly.
