Spirit of Change

Picture a man

Looking up at a weeping sky

Rain splinters down

His burnt charcoal skin


Razor like water drips

Thin, thin, thin

Washing over cracks

Relaying new tracks

Wiping clear a memory


Of an internal enemy

Siphoning his energy

Organs clean

But the rest of me

Organs free

But the rest of me

Searching for autonomy


These showers always come

Keeping the surface moist

Never dry or coarse

A scab will protect

Flake then fade


But the rain has its wisdom

Supple is the earth

Supple is the body

He must trust this spirit

It’s the spirit of change

















Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: