DEBIE COLLINS

 

Lonesome Lemon

 

There is a lone lemon

On a withered tree

In her yard.

 

It waits

For her to notice

How it hangs on.

 

It waits,

hoping that this time,

her mind filled with clatter

will quiet long enough

so she can see,

hanging on is not that hard

and brightness is on its way.

 

Treasure Maps To Somewhere

 

He was a stowaway on my trip to nowhere,

we drank carbonated venom in little glass vials

while we read bottle cap messages looking for hope.

We found treasure maps

under the seats of the weary,

all of us

looking for hope.

and so, we dug tunnels to somewhere

with little plastic shovels from Walmart

each of us filling our buckets

with sands of tomorrow,

 

Deaf to the Seduction

As jade silken sirens are silenced,

deceptive cries crumble.

No longer shall I be beckoned by the past.

I am deaf to the seduction of

the winged wraith, depression.

Watch,

as the echos of my truth

create satin waves

I now ride upon.

Listen,

as the wailing walls within my soul

now tremble.

Particles from my past

transform into

mere dust at my feet,

dust that calls to be swept away,

and this command I will answer

with exhales of forgiveness.

The pieces of what once was

will blow away

and the silence of today

will serenade.

 

Escape the ordinary

They sprout and flicker

Like blades of grass

Lost among the many.

But there are a few,

Just a few,

That will escape

The fields of conformity,

Reminding us

To be grateful

We are different.

 

Brail Hope

 

I tuck my trauma into a crib of cryptic lines

nursed back to life by words,

soothed and swaddled with layers of poetry.

Shadows of yesterday and the fears of tomorrow rest.

Fresh ink

and weathered journals collaborate and compose

brail hope

for those blinded by lies,

resurrection.

 

DEBIE COLLINS