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Twisting in the Wind

by Brian Francis


Yet here is another winsome way,
A passage twisting inward.
Where embers rain, inflaming,
Burning away, the ego self-image.
Leaving the hollow transparent.
Untethered from the lies,
From the deceptions we embrace.

If forests once grew here
They were burned to ash completely.
Touched by the heat of treason
An inferno consuming even the sky.
Leaving a fragile skeleton
Disappearing with the winds
Carried away, becoming a haboob.

Rancid rains, tainted with regret,
Pummel the garden of my soul.
Stripping the petals from the flowers.
Where my dreams grow and become
Has turned into a muddled mess.
The embryos of my tomorrows
Lay wounded and destroyed.

This is what your love has done to me.
And yet, like a thirsty sojourner,
I yearn for you even now; I am ruined.
Tears drain from me like a spring
Its flow, like a great wound, bleeds.
A spear to my heart would be better
At least, I would have death’s release.



05/15/2018

Posted on 05/15/2018
Copyright © 2018 Brian Francis

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