spirit

purple cat drawing
on the black asphalt outside.
through the children’s eyes.

in plain history
i see the world with new eyes.
seeing the future.

we dig up the ground.
tear strips right out of it.
pack away the bones.
fold up the fleshy suit.
we bury the dead.
but they never stay dead.

we gnash and wail.
flail arms and cast stones.
hug others through incessant moans.
blockade the tombs
with granite headstones.

the hollow ground and hallowed mound.
scars of living lost all sound.
the worried brow of future’s scowl.
maudlin history forgotten now.
the present a dangling participant
hung from his own gallows knot.

faith and the fury.
bedfellows born of this fight.
tears and smiles in spit and in spite.

carry on my weary one.
this is a journey that cannot be won.
but in these miles made of trials,
the fervent heart is anchored deep,
glued by promises souls must keep.

dig up the memories.
unpack the pain.
try tomorrow.
again.
and again.

in an old trench coat
i bumble through history.
visiting old friends.

in a plain cream box
lie the remnants of your life.
our keepsakes safe.

sparkling red and gold
streams across the black night sky.
celebrate the chance.