I have not written in ages. I have been struggling with time and a great many things. Briefly this poem reflects my habitual weakness of running circles when unsure and my ever-quest of balancing myself with the feminine: through relationships past and present.
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Roots of Lament
-thankful regards and inspiration to Kristen, Adrian, and My Love.
Relentless roots grip deep, yet leaves still fall.
Leaf canopy circles arch and descend without end.
Turn water, turn ice, turn wind; still all turns thaw.
First break the self; then break the earth, its’ jaws.
Pull out the yoke of age in hope of amends.
Relentless roots grip deep, yet leaves still fall.
Thrust past the crust and then through magma gnaw.
Each body burned, well spent, in trade of repents.
Turn water, turn ice, turn win; still all turns thaw.
Wedge tooth of toe to break each bone of shawl.
The face then reached unclear through haze of blends.
Relentless roots grip deep, yet leaves still fall.
Brush apart and wash the lips of thou who called
Turn not back to the wake, gaze not on passed limbs lent.
Turn water, turn ice, turn win; still all turns thaw.
It is the woe of man who stands so tall.
It is the woe of man you could not circumvent
Relentless roots grip deep, yet leaves still fall.
Turn water, turn ice, turn win; still all turns thaw.
