Roost
Words tonight fly out as black as crows,
oily and stubborn, ruffled and sharp.
Feathers may litter the floor.
The air holds a fever, a taut pitch,
a howl we hitch to, each unsure
of our turf. Bristling, a hiss—
and it isn’t the kettle or the cat.
But we swallow the rest, stinging
until the barbs wing into the night.
We settle our worries like eggs.
Tomorrow, we draw the same breath
when we see the mountains rising
into morning, as white as clouds.
A crow’s nest is a sloppy mess,
a loose muddle of twigs in a tree.
Love is like that—on a hard day, held
with spit and bits of string—
on a good day, home.
A Pocket of Time
The sky drops like a crow’s night wing
and clouds build behind the dry hill.
A thimble of weather,
a pocket of time.
You reach in for the moments,
warm your hands. You have stood
on this shore, listened for the gossip
of dried grass, the secrets reeds tell.
At the cusp of another decade,
language is fledging.
Swallow the light on the wind.
Stay for the heron that might alight
before dark. The old words fly south,
leave nests of questions in the shadows—
What is the length of an hour?
What is my deepest fire?
What blessed letting go
will give you back the sunlight
on the thickest cedars,
the clear path through them?
WRITE YOUR POEM:
At times a poem takes on historic proportions when a non-existent prisoner memorizes it. This poem itself was written by someone in a hospital, struggling against their own existence. This was the favorite poem of Nelson Mandela. What is the power of poetry? It gives the poet life. It gives the listener life. Write your poem. Share it with the wind. Who knows who will pick it up.
Invictus- William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
