life on the line

bottom of a bowel
of jagged rocks
slender bristling pines
ring  a ragged sky
through which slips
slivers of warmth
hugging me like a child
on this crisp morning

life on the line
wiggling wriggling
jumping
splashing, flashing
slippery, cold, and firm
in my grasp

After the Meltdown

After the meltdown, the area was sealed under a slab of concrete 10 feet thick. They caught the terrorist,  but the damage was done. Nothing could never be recovered. The community scattered. Those who found refuge, resettled. The rest drifted.

I'm a drifter,  though I never moved on. Moving on is leaving it behind and starting something new. I've been everywhere but I haven't moved. My heart is buried under this 10 foot slab trying to recover something--anything. I have been here too long.

Time to start digging out. Maybe this was place wasn't what I needed.  Maybe the meltdown was a good thing. Maybe I shouldn't be looking for what is gone and seek what has never left. Everything happens for a reason, especially if it happens to you. If the universe speaks, I should listen.

Dear Me

dog snoring a lullaby
makes my head droopy
or I'd write a letter to 
Jesus
It's been 3 years

dear me