A South African trio

Through clouds,
i am in clouds
to find my way home.
moments, slip and slide like sand and sea
through fingers

and all that work to find
a truth: all is naught
in the absence of love -
we are dis;
un-
satisfied

eyes
and arms are found wanting
were you to me
what i am
to you
perhaps we'd find that we've already
found our way.

***
Purple
rains down on me
in sweet supple
drops of summer in winter.
I remember when these streets were ours
I re-appropriate
my memories
through a new lens that wonders what could have been
had timing not served as the master of our maladies.

***

I remember why
I struggle
to stand stark against
the threat of invisibility.
all roads lead to you,
we were dressed in shiny coats
cloaks of delusions
rather than be deemed unsuitable...
i wear them still.

good sir you've taught me well
and still
i cannot seem to placate
my dreams
your voice reminds me of my
manifold insufficiencies

each disappointment bears your name
emblazoned in shields and on the blades
that slice through my foolish hoping heart.
i am she, and they, are you.
i still play, the twisted game that leaves me
willingly chasing love that you denied.

old is new

i am breathing in
time.
each inhaliation brings me closer to the end of my beginnings
or perhaps
beginning of my end

old becomes new when it is
nestled within the embrace
of existential recollections,
conversations about
how you and i defy,
and define,
time and space.

in this body i am recognized by
time and circumstance.
they move through me
turning like
leaves in an autumn breeze,
are those laugh lines?
wrinkles.

in wooden glens i am ageless
reunited with turns of phrase once shared between
souls that defy our feble attempts to understand
space and place
and purpose.

towers of oak and vines of green grow wild through
markers of existence,
framing bodily ends in wreaths of eternity
they are manifestos to the timelessnes
of love
that is reborn with each set of eyes
and voices that relive their song

old, is new.
there are no ends, and no beginnings
or, one end,
and one beginning.
choose what you will,
but i must remind you
that each establishes equivalent fear
of the unknown