Imbalance

Imbalance of Power

Small and fragile the nest sits

waiting for life, leaning and pushing,

releasing the crowning glory.

It's not to be kept.

The constellation approves.

The powerless see

 the powers that be.

Privilege and influence are the controls,

in the cool shade of an industry disguised. 

Under the force of decades,

the impotent surrender.

Twigs snap, hearts break.

The powerless see 

  the powers that be.

History Waiting

Grief in waves, lungs fill, water pours, breathing stops.

Sitting alone in the dark, wicker creaks beneath, wine glass drips condensation

in time with tears.

Clouds cover moon and darkness deepens.

Thoughts pass and flow from despair to hope and back again.

A shadow at the back screen door, silhouetted by 6 bright bulbs of the chandelier,

looks out wondering why?

Hiding in the dark of midnight waiting for the shadow to retreat so the sounds of sadness

don't have to be swallowed whole.

32 years, when does it end?

The graft is still tied to the stranger branch, being held back but yearning for the original, tongue tied,

arms released but still struggling against invisible restraints.

The roots are still and waiting, wishing, sending thoughts on the breeze heading north.

Keeping it light, texting a smile, another week goes by.