Thursday, October 27, 2022

a call from home



a teeny-tiny piece of nothing
is trembling in your mind like a
limping butterfly looking for a place
to stop and rest.
“hew,” you say, winded from your effort.
you have carried your worry and concern for
decades. you’ve come a long way and adrenaline
is fueling your vexed emotions, surging into
feelings of crude perceptions.
don’t fear the shadow that lurks behind you.
it means no harm.
it comes to remind you that the land is waiting.
it wants to swallow you whole.
it wants your flesh to feed the worms.
it wants your bones to nourish the earth.
it wants you resting snuggly in its bowels.
it wants to kiss your soul goodbye.