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the amount of light
expressed equals how much of
our dark we explore
Grazie, Denah.
There is a deep honor befriending an elder;
returning the blessings that we've been bestowed.
Also a frisson of fear we have held, for
we pray we are gifted with honor, not owed .
...and so it begins,
rural against urban,
rich against poor,
change against established,
white against black,
privilege against opportunity,
proud boys against military,
prostitution against dictatorship,
both sides digging in
turning trenches to graves...

and so it never ended
Been watching CNN and Fox News, believing the truth lies somewhere in the middle.  There is no middle right now.
There was no quiet desperation
in the riotous years of youth,
the grasping search for love and truth.
No, in those days there was no patience
for the faintest scent of dull
routine or rut.  It's just with age
that comfort's found in gilded cage,
no fires to set, and belly full.

Should a technicolor sunrise
strike a quickened spark of phoenix
from the ash of youthful pyres,
hopeful drops for jaded eyes
which, once refreshed, will then be fixed
upon millennial birds of fire.
Grist for the mill, Wisdom.
Seated at my feet when I wake at 2a.m.
You faithfully keep watch over my soul.
Yet the unspoken words between us
Haunt my thoughts by day.  
There is so much I long to know.

I sense your ever-presence guarding
My every step, my thoughts, my heart.
Tortured by your silence, yet
Comforted by the knowledge that
I'm never alone.
© Annilda Esterhuysen. All rights reserved.
These winter trees
cold and shouldering winds
their bending branches unhinge
falling limbs crash and break the snow
further still a secret world of mud and bulbs
that in the spring blooms of tulips and violet mossy lawns
and too, the sun that comes to warm and fills with green the tree arms
this wooded home that breathes with sheltering birdsong.
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