Thoughts during the Days of Awe

I inhale the air off salty seas, and
With respect to time, breathe slowly
Through its painful passing.
Calm, I continue to bear the flow of unmarked seasons,
Focused on making my hands more useful.

This is the natural cruel way of it,
The coldly doled out single hand,
Unclaimed, incidental.

But even now at this late date
I detect in my heart a belated rebellion
Starting, simmering, called awake by the sound.
The desire to expand a quiet bliss,
An hour beneath the pale summer stars,
A forest walk and three smooth stones.
I’ll cobble them together for a giant shawl
To cover my head and shelter us all
While I pray for forgiveness.

Offering thanks for dreams, I ask
Mostly for protection. At last I’ll no longer fear
The dark approaching, as I know it will,
When loneliness and regret finally come for me.

(c) Melissa Perera

 

Breathing

Almost a century not breathing,
No passage inward, pores blocked.
Garbage of years, disappointment,
Sunburnt skin, ticking clock.

Never felt being held,
No more dreams after trauma, wars,
Broken, they once lifted me up,
No trust in them, self-imposed chores.

No safety net, work better without.
Alive to produce, “I” am just one.
No room for person, or personal hells,
Just bodies that can “git-r-done”.

I don’t need to understand.
Fear, I listen well, command me.

Push, scrape, bleed, flow,
Candle glow recalls dead.
Thick cloud, see it there, breathe slow,
Remember, pay the trees for air.

(c) Melissa Perera