-wounded in one
the fragments of a day, a season, a life
the ragged edges endless;
I am cut down the heart, unguarded
in that moment.
I find the
-liquid black, the make-up smears and
I am utterly
There is a picture in my heart:
There is a
banner waving high while a white stallion rears.
The boy-man astride, with strength in his thigh and
wind through his hair; his blue eyes glint.
With a sudden kick of the heel
away with confidence.
Ride free, my love.
All the imperfect I have given you,
all the broken places, pieces
it has still been
I pray the sanctity of my heart’s effort
anoints the forward path.
I have you in my heart.
I fumble in the wreckage
of a purse completely tossed asunder.
It’s my purse and it’s my life.
And I can’t find the one card I need
in the one moment I need it, which is now.
And I have to suffer the humiliation
The purse, the life, the pain, the asking, the need-
-holding my ground and humbling-
I do it for the good. For the good of my people.
and the way life always and forever
always and forever
looks so different, IS so different.
A sob with pain no one can share. It is mine alone
and I must bear it.
The music plays
it plays my heart.
he plays my heart
in and out
through all the years.
The piano notes ripple
all around me
It’s George Winston. It’s December.
I cry the broken
I rush on like a train
barreling down the track
I am off
so off track,
I am wrecked.
I wander through the store with downcast eyes.
I am just one word away
from that wild, uncontrollable, inexplicable
But, it doesn’t matter.
I am alone.