Brown soft sleepy eyes
The air is cooler tonight
He is half awake
Sudden joy surprises me
A whole day is blessed by this
I’ve been playing with writing in this form, which is traditional Japanese poetry called a tanka. Obviously, not written in Japanese.
Space opens like an eye
between the hours
of rough chaos, now turned still.
Now my will reigns
When the heaviness falls
who greets me in my dreams,
but those I seem to cherish most
and by sleep.
This poem was born of a particularly trying day with the trolls, when I was sitting in bed later, listening to the quiet of the house and my own thoughts for the first time in hours.
Wishing bones crackle
in flames of sinew.
A dripdrop of hope
down the darkness of the well –
And I haul up my buckets
day after day.
Memory stacks up
the time under my feet.
We are falling through futures,
And I follow the first family home
to the long room that’s come
full circling here.
This feasting goes on,
the beer is on tap,
we are singing the sweet ones –
home again, down again –
as we are all born, in the fire of life.
The fox says
have you heard the wasp?
The wasp who stings and bites the herd,
who takes the caterpillar to her nest
to feast her wasplings on the dead.
Who flies headstrong into the wind,
her voice a song that’s barely there,
that calls the highest down to ground
and names each by their truest name.
She – warrior queen, huntress alone,
knows nothing is less than, and nothing more.