I could whisper to you of all my darker objects. They are saved, neatly tucked away like the items in my garage, hung, strung, organized with care— …
My Darker Objects – Annette Kalandros
My Darker Objects – Annette Kalandros
Author: akalandros
If the Eternal Exists
no gulf across time no forever in forever promises of time that drips still as if the eternal existed in the binding of souls and yet-- and yet— breath stops in hope-- with my final breath I will soar into the sun to wait for you, or should it be-- find you there waiting for me, then we will fly beyond whatever magic of spirit there exists, mingling and joining with the elements-- of air of earth of water of fire merging and separating and merging again for an eternity. then should we, in the beauty of condemned blessings, fall to earth once again, no matter where, no matter when, I will find you yet again.
The Birth of Autumn
At the edges of this cool morning, humming with the dying of summer, I, long awake, attend to things that must be done: dogs fed; trash pulled to the curb; a load of laundry started; hummingbird feeders cleaned; all ordinary, mundane things— This chill in the air has me wish I’d put on a jacket, yet the chill will be gone by noon. And I find I smile. For the first time, I do not despair at the dying of this year’s summer, but find a joyous warmth in the light as this year’s autumn is born.
Of Stones and Weeds
I could rake these stones. Free these tiny weeds which my feeble fingers fumble to grab and tweeze out. Yes, with a rake, I could disturb the harmony of stones, free the weeds— But no. I have had enough of stones. I’ve enough of their weight placed upon me. I’ve carried the tonnage of stone from place to place, lived under it, barely breathing through years, lived decades encased within a sarcophagus of other’s demands and expectations, all shattered now in lovely shards left in the distance behind me. No, I will leave these stones undisturbed. They will not take up my time. There are other ways to weed, and should the weeds take the stones, there is beauty to be found in the wildness of weeds.
For All Our Daughters, A Prayer
My daughter, mine,
though you live
thousands of miles away
sleep safe, my daughter mine.
Though you live
where a man caresses a weapon of war as he plots
to drill death into hundreds as he walks down a street,
sleep safe, my daughter mine.
Though you live
where freedom should ring
yet a state ties you hostage in righteous ropes of religion,
sleep safe, my daughter mine.
Though you live
where you must sell your body
to feed your children,
sleep safe, my daughter mine.
Though you live
where no one, no law will protect you
from the monster who sleeps beside you,
sleep safe, my daughter mine.
Though you live
where you have no voice,
where you die in the custody of morality police,
where you can disappear with no outcry to echo behind,
sleep, sleep safe, my daughter mine.
To Do Lists
Morning drifts away with chores I assign myself: The must do, the needs to be done— An endless list to fill a notepad next to the calendar: Feed the dogs, Clean and fill the hummingbird feeders, Change the sheets, Do the ironing, Neatly fold the sheets from the dryer so they align perfectly on the shelf in the closet-- Leave no time to think. Even less time to feel. Keep all thoughts, All feelings at bay. Use the list like a whip and a chair. Let no old cliché hold any sway. Whip the old “nothing ventured, nothing gained” into a new pose of Nothing ventured, nothing lost upon the circus stand, a much easier creature to manage this way.
Golden Promises
golden promises shimmer in summer’s sunlight somehow cozy now think eternity somehow cozy, snuggled in velvet lined starlight as earth turns toward fall no comfort of faith within Fatima’s secrets
Moonwashed Weekly Prompt – Somehow-cozy – Moonwashed Musings (amanpan.blog)
Of Wounds and Winter
Winter exists in this quiet realm: The place of spring dreams where from rich loam colors emerge vibrant, as if hope, become a virgin, offered her hand to lessen Winter’s ache enough the wounded reach to touch without wounding in the trying.
An Unrepentant Sky
merge with the unrepentant sky, learn the truth, the reasons why suffering and fear and hatred abound, feeding upon human souls, destroying what Nature did so elegantly design, the beauty of humanity from the inside out-- until we are devils, our mouths foaming blood-tinged froth while our claws fill with sinew torn from our innocent brethren, who different from us, are deemed worthy only of hate— and the earth turns on its axis of destruction in an unrepentant sky as any God that be cries.
Where Cloud Shadows Paint
still quiet, breath stops a moment-- striations apparent upon the red rock in the distance-- sound unheard speaks a language our ancestors once knew-- perhaps our souls once spoke words lost to us now yet here where clouds paint shadows upon the land our souls feel the rhythm of a language we once knew
Hearing The Mermaids Sing 