Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.

Something from far off it seemed
deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,
a shout muffled by huge autumns,
by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves.

Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig
sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance
climbed up through my conscious mind

as if suddenly the roots I had left behind
cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood---
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent

It's funny how the world spins
Even though we walk amongst pins
The needles buried beneath our skins
Our one of few hopes to salvage sins.

Agree to disagree
Though the world's not better off
Mask up, tone down
Zealots will forever scoff

So pray for your neighbor
Hold out your hand
The waves lapping against the Harbour
As the rats bring about the plague.

My fingers hover around the letters,
Like a longing of love.

My mind static with less emotion,
Grounded every time.

I can't.

It won't
               work.

My mind is-
     An empty hoard.