Portraits in Letter

Tag: nature

  • Wither in the shallow

    Empty eyes stare into the horizon

    Old photographs flash like still-life memories

    Why did no-one ever tell us counting seasons is a luxury

    That sometimes they all melt together into a single moment

    Past present and future, in a single cold stare

    How did flowers once grow on this dry ground?

    Things at their end look like the end is all they have ever known

    How so dramatically beauty withers

    Empty eyes staring into the grim horizon

    Dreams of the beholder and those of the beheld

    Choked to nothing from staying in the shallow…

  • Friendship

    I want to live out the lazy days again

    Walking down the street on a Wednesday afternoon

    In flip flops

    Passing through your house, before you had a gate

    Knocking on the door, in case you were home

    You coming out, still with your head wrap on your braids

    Taking out the garden chairs, placing them by the river

    Which runs through your yard before it makes a waterfall

    Opening a bottle of wine, then anticipating the evening’s chill

    Quickly making a fire, then anticipating we will get hungry

    Putting meat on the fire, just before the wine runs out

    Me rushing back to my house, to get a few more bottles

    At some point, we have the world at our feet…

    The stars and the moon, jealously staring at us

    A soft river flowing in front of us

    A warm fire making tender meat for us

    Wine, perhaps cheap, but wine all the same

    And oh God, laugher, laughter, at the foolishness of the world!

  • Mother made a home

    The memories of our old home, they are vague to me now

    But I remember what this place used to look like

    Wild fertile ground, charming and unlivable

    And you, with your rough feminine hands

    You sowed every seed, shaped every tree

    You built every room, painted every wall

    You mended the cracks 

    Bent the sticks and glued the stones 

    You made something of every single nothing

    Until alas,

    Home to creatures that fly, and creatures that crawl

    And those that walk upright when they need to lay down

    You are one with nature and nature is art

    You mother, are art

    And you made us a home

    To me, a paradise to rest my tired mind

    Let me come home and rest in your arms.

  • Places to scream

    Last night I dreamt myself in the woods

    Surrounded by hills and fog, at the break of dusk

    What descended upon me was not fear of the wild

    Nor the need to know where on earth I was

    My first thought was, ‘ here’s a place where I can finally scream’

    I started with a timid half screech

    Then found the courage to go louder, freer

    With every attempt, I Iet go deeper

    Screaming louder as I raced myself into that wild woodland

    When I woke up, everything felt different, 

    and I knew

    I’ve run out of places to scream

    Of courage to run

    Of freedom to be

    Perhaps it’s time I started anew. 

    …Happy new year!

  • Fire, wind and water

    Fire!

    I remember how the fire started

    Slowly awakening every sense in its way

    Lighting up a whole city

    Have you ever seen a city rage before?

    The heat, the heat, there was nothing like it.

    Wind!

    But nature is a tough thing to bear

    Perfect harmony can bring perfect chaos

    I remember the force of the wind that came

    Spreading the fire beyond the walls of the city

    Put it out! Put it out! Logic kept crying

    I don’t know why, but I wanted it to burn

    I feared the darkness and cold more than the heat and the light. 

    Water!

    The rain wouldn’t have it and it started to pour

    I’ll never forget how quickly it went cold

    Blackness and ashes on a smokey horizon

    In that cold darkness, I found the city gate

    I took one more look at the bareness before me

    Then turned my back and walked away

    Even though I had lost a whole city

    I’d always choose to fly away and inherit the sky. 

  • The woods are not still

    We retreat to the woods to find serenity

    I wonder sometimes how the woods see us

    Perhaps we are like visitors who have come on a bad day

    When its inhabitants all have too much to do

    Birds packing up to migrate to elsewhere;

    Leaves falling down to make blankets for those beneath;

    Caterpillars feeding fast before they hibernate;

    Squirrels rushing home before it gets dark;

    And we sitting there amidst the red gold and green;

    Unaware of how hectic this ‘still’ place can be.

  • Guardians of time

    The guardians of time choose places to stand

    Where the insignificant can find them when they’ve run out of wisdom

    They dig their roots deep into the earth we can’t see

    And let the wind caress them as though they were frail

    In helplessness I watch the wind have its way with them

    They shed their autumn leaves without holding back

    How can they not keep a single leaf?

    For the memory of summer or in hope for the spring

    What did the wind promise that they believe in so much?

    What are their roots hiding that they look so unmoved?

    Let me sit here a little longer and perhaps I can learn

    The ancient law of life, from the guardians of time.