Hope to live.
The problem with the world today
Is the hardening of our hearts
We think it’s easier to guard ourselves
From reminders of being ripped apart
The problem with building these walls
Is though we no longer feel pain
We can’t only choose that one bad feeling
To just toss out in the rain
Our happiness, peace and love for others
Disappears too and leaves us numb
So when suffering souls reach out for help
It’s easy to turn away and run
But I knew of a girl who was brutally broken
But chose not to toughen her skin
She was able to be a beacon of hope
Since she had been where others had been
If we want to heal the broken souls
We must look at our pain as a gift
If we choose to smile, love and listen
Others might soon have hope to live
On Loss
In retrospect of all the major losses I have had,
I am grateful and recognize they weren't meant to be
They weren't meant for me
Dead weight
Men who never cared for me
Even loss of virginity
Didn't mean I was impure
But rather gave me a greater view of what love
Was supposed to be
Jobs that weren't good enough for me
The rejection lists were no great travesty
When the door of opportunity
Opened to reveal something even greater
Than I had previously
Believed I was worthy of
-Something worthy of me
Loss in retrospect
Was the least best thing
That I'd expect
Could be the greatest single thing
That has ever happened to me
Loss you see
Isn't negativity
It only sharpens your course
For what is supposed to be yours
Like the chiseling of a statue
Cutting and chipping away at
The rock and debris that doesn't make you
The perfection of what God or the Universe deems you to be
And sometimes
Though the loss may be painful and loathsome
It is no less purposeful
With no less meaning
Than to bring you to terms
With who you truly are
To be
So let go of your angst of loss
And embrace it
Wholeheartedly
a few tankas
In the setting sun
against burned mulberry leaves
a canary sings:
bars of some gold melody
suddenly freed from the cage
( — elsewhere — )
Amidst the temples
and ancestral memories
tamandua thrive
on an ant infested mound
weilding tongues like spatulas
( — erstwhile — )
There in the blue green
between tumbling kelpweed
a workhorse, a seahorse
continues on its home spree
leading a herd of small fry
( — likewise — )
Returning to caves
in the solemn sonar dark
bats descend to rest
like upside down sleeping bags
hanging among stalactites
#Animals #Tankas #Challenge #4Takes
