Such A Time

I found a blog not long ago that always inspires me to do…  something,  even if only in a document.  This is not a patch on his work but I wrote.  Thank you Lance Sheridan.  Please visit his amazing writing.

Does winter’s plague
beckon the drowned
who find solace beneath?

Accustomed to the connecting
seasons floating by, they endure
the frowned face stares
tentatively mirroring their own
above taught ice.

Caught in between coldness,
a new age and only a hint
of the smell of warmth
from heads butting on this hard glass
they hurl and shout –

but nothing will reach the surface
till spring time –
a time eagerly awaiting
the scathing torture in their
rambunctious voice –

and not until, after a crack of ice,
thick and headstrong,
all hell is let loose,

if hell, that is, were suddenly,
to become heaven, and spring is reborn.

 

 

 

Cherish

Immaculada de Soul:  Murillo, Bartolomé Esteban

I speak low lest
my love evaporates
before e’en kissed
by your infant’s breath,
and beg before day’s
whispered hush
ascends to nightfall;
small child, look at me
one last time
before you crawl away as slow
as time roams vast.

Too soon tomorrow’s
branches, laced
with the chirps of sweet song,
will bow to cradle this dear life –
and since time nor death
show mercy –
warm arms, other than mine
shall hold him, and voyage with him
to a strange, beatific world,
where all will be waiting.