Some of The Ropes and Chains

Image result for image storm

Every storm has a quiet cradle:

A cell in which I can sit with myself and my shadow;

Rain and wind are doubtless a-coming

But before the tempest noise stirs

We get to read between such lines as we can see.

I look through my own eyes – in these moments –

And into my own eyes, seeing beyond, behind.

We’ve started some big fires to get here,

Jumped into and over others, it’s true

And, after this latest hurricane has

Passed and done some damage

We’ll enjoy a summer garden again.

Yet I cannot escape the feeling that I’ve

Let go of some of the ropes and chains

That have anchored  me

To the valuable past.

And it frightens me.

 

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Chains

They have removed the chains

From the End of the World.

How’s your balance now?

How close to the

Sharp edges will

You dare to walk?

 

Last book I read

Said God was a rabbit;

Where can you put

Your trust?