.

When pain takes away our capacity for movement

We sit in its stillness

Belonging to silent waters

Turbid thieves just made their escape

We, they – tremble at den

In terms of possibilities

Having wept enough for the dead

It’s mold, a faith in fiction

Floating on airs

Creation

A clarified leap

Where winds fall away

And those winged feet bring soul to tireless Sol

Dreamt in crushed leaves

I’ve ridden the fear

Of stolen prayer

For the pounding behind tear