what you love

somewhere,
where right and wrong meet
and wage war,
is a battlefield
without words,
without weapons,
without laws,
without a cause;
where everything drops dead
to the ground,
where you stand
on all sides
as one,
taking the shape
of the arrow
of love,
simply
what you love. 

from the other side

I want to plant trees.
All along the road we live in.
Not to save the earth.
Not to preserve the wild
within busy grey walls.
Not to fill the gaping hole
in the ozone layer.
Not to sit under the shade
of a story the world loves
to rave about.
Not for Facebook likes,
or petitions garnering tribes.

I want to plant trees.
So the two dogs
who come hanging their tongues,
looking for cars to sleep
under this scorching heat,
or the men who work
on sites and roads,
holding fire in their hands,
can rest a while;
so the cats and birds
and butterflies and worms,
have friends and enemies,
and homes to climb and fly;
so I can find a home
away from home,
for these tiny saplings
peeking out from the fold
of their mother's bosom;

yes, I want to plant trees
I can talk to and feel love,
here, from the other side.

warpaint and fire

there is a space
I can walk,
where I don't need
warpaint and fire,
or cries blasting open
the silence
where fault lines shift,
sink and explode,
and still I walk
held by opposite worlds,
and not swinging between them,
holding the one tiny spark
of love inside
for everything
tugging at this skin
called I.

lies

lies lay scattered
in the dirt,
like impotent seeds,
biding their time,
until the seasons change,
when they lie exposed
to what they could not be,
truths they could not see or feel,
for they were just that -
lies.