Portraits in Letter

Tag: peace

  • 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.

  • 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.