(October 4, 2015: “Just
write”, she told me. “Write something every day. Can’t wait on inspiration. You
have to work at it…”)
moon is gone,
heavens cloaked in rushing
clouds
crying their hearts out;
dark grief (the seed of unfathomable
pain)
stalks corralled, restless steeds,
relentless pacing, bridled,
tethered;
primed to burst open thickening
cloudscape
and rampage along dizzying
ascents
lined by guardian hearts
of blinding affirmation
