Rebirth

 

fruit

Image Source, For The Sunday Muse Prompt #46.

***
Petal by petal,
life returns to this frigid vista
each one a delicate splash of
colour against a canvas,
bringing life, the way blood
revivifies a face
just in from the cold.
From things once dead,
life springs again, reborn.

Freedom

black-art

For Prompt #45 at The Sunday Muse. Image “Be Free” by Magic Love Crow.

***
Line by line the silhouette
of an angel rises up,
phoenix-like, in the space
where the prophet’s finger
parts the sand.
This is what freedom is-
the delirious joy
of walking away
from the baying crowd,
the space between the lines
as alive as the lines.

Earth Child

 

earth-child

For The Sunday Muse prompt #43. Image Source.

***
Child of Mother Earth,
dust, breath, fire, and water,
from clay formed,
stitched together by
the finger of the Divine.
You, who are a string
stretched taut between
the past and the future
unbroken in the present,
have simmered beneath
the pressure of hell
and high water, bearing
the burden of a message
preserved for you.
But now like a bird set free,
you must take wing and fly.
I call you by your name,
Alafiaoluwa, Be peace.

41.

 

pear

For The Sunday Muse prompt #41 and The Sunday Whirl Wordle 388. Image Source.

***
Green with a hint of yellow,
the tender tendril pushes past
the strictures of an empty bottle.
Outside, the chill from snow piled high
smothers everything, its weight
like a bland, white blanket
inhibiting life.

The shy and the retiring
do not inherit the delights
of this benighted world, only
the tough who blithely swipe
away civility appear to win
the trial of perception.

But always after night
the day comes; and with it
life reborn, somehow staying whole
in the face of relentless pressure

Freedom

woman-bird

For The Sunday Muse prompt #40 and The Sunday Whirl Wordle 388. In The Middle of Freedom, Image Source.

***
My fingers mould the pliant clay
beneath the surface of this puddle
into an image of a memory; each
mound of earth rubbed round between
my fingers a portion of a story emerging
like birds set free from a gilded cage.
The memory is a chain anchoring
the fluid present to the stable past.
It pulses like a thing that lives –
somehow more alive with freedom
than at first it would seem.

Call of the Wild

 

zebra

For The Sunday Muse #39 and Wordle 387 from The Sunday Whirl. Image Source.

***
Here in the shadow
Of despair, loneliness
Hangs in the air like
A wet coat, the silence
Like the weight of pebbles
Beneath which which one sags,
Broken at the knees.

Each step towards
The distant light is a prayer
Of repenting, for forgetting
What love in the wild
Feels like.

Step by step, walk after walk
We are making this world
Whole again, heeding the
Inner call to become
Wild and free again.

Piano

 

piano

Image Source, for The Sunday Muse prompt #38. After Dan Howell’s Piano.

***

Although her lithe and petite frame
Shivers in the chill of the falling rain,
Her fingers pound the piano’s keys
Into submission to the rhythm of her will
And with the libation of her song
She sets us free to dance in the rain.

Guardian

guardian

“Guardian” by Chie Yoshii, for The Sunday Muse #37 and The Sunday Whirl Wordle 385 prompts:

***
She perches on your shoulder
This invisible guardian of the night
Her voice a quiet word
Whispered in your ear
Barely heard above the din
The way text, lightly etched
On a slab of stone would look
In the shimmer of dusk.

A dream deferred cannot slip back
Into a sleepless mind.
Once a butterfly’s eyes
Have seen the light of freedom;
Once its kicks have set it free
From the caul of the caterpillar
It cannot become a larva again.

The prophecy is guidance promised;
That when, in the heat of the midday sun,
You beg a drink of clean water
From the store, you will return in peace
Because her word has gone before.