Living the Dream

At the root of it, once reaching almost all the way to heaven,
lie bones and stones of beloveds and beliefs
that living should be twice, not once, no end
but simply a holding until such powers that do such things
call to rise.  Not this long wait, not this continual patience
while willow saplings, yellow straw stems, dragonflies’
perpetual pirouette as they wave goodbye and I am left
where the fog shrouds the sunlight on a crashing shore
to simply hear the sad howl of a thousand wolves, one at a time
that say there is movement but is so slow it leaves the last
grip on heavy earth  sighing with a moan.  It sits,
holding hard, while wild winds whip what’s left of faith
into a frenzied dance and fracturing fall to feed itself.
I can wait no longer.  I need more than a promise.

Tags: Poems //