Soul Friend

They say each tree grows in its own shadow
But we are strange trees you and me
For I am entwined to you stem and roots;
Someone passing by
Would swear we are one tree
and lose that bet
But my bark is rough and yours smooth
Your leaves are the shape of the heart
and mine the shape of an arrow head

all striving for light

On Hope: A sonnet.

Out from the dense death-deep dark space

Hope came to me with steady a pace:

Adorned with a halo like rings of Saturn,

Blowing on her conch she announced my turn,

Her parts were covered with the mother of pearl,

Her hair wild and fiery was in a perpetual whirl.

She held out a vile vase wound with lace,

With downcast eyes thrust it to my face,

In the vase nettles were chocking a rose.

Scratching my stinging skin from this vision I arose,

To find myself in a train’s tail end wagon,

My skin I peeled and the illusions were gone,

Out the window the train derailed – I held on.