Here I am

©️Hannah Buckman

The thrill and relief at a new beginning

Just like the shock of some new meaning 

Fills you with wholesome expectation

With more than a hint of trepidation. 

Is it true, can it be real?

Did you miss something in all the zeal?

Do you rush in and stumble, 

Or hesitate and fumble?

 

Just as a flower blooming draws in water

Love’s first dawn invites you to the slaughter. 

The prize just over the horizon 

Requires you to charge forward like a bison.

The embrace is so much comfort 

Like a castle, or sight of that long sought fort.

Calories may come and go

But the ring of your laugh gives such a glow. 

You don’t have to be sure or perfect 

Just have faith in cause and effect. 

Be it a fitfully uncomfortable sleep 

Or pottering up hills too steep; 

All it takes is an afternoon kiss 

That’s bliss that just can’t miss. 

The feathery touch to release the valve

The gentle whisper the perfect salve. 

Masking the Distance

© Mizo Ozim 

What’s left after corona?
How do we move on from the aroma?
Do we go big?
Do we go small?
Do we use just a sprig,
Or the whole damn stall?

These new norms we’ve learned
Will they fix the bridges we’ve burned?
Will there be life after corona
Or is life as we know it truly over?
How far do we have to travel
Before things completely unravel?

Has covid-19 taken more than it has given?
Has it left left us with more than just a burden?
Is there a way for us to recover?
Or are we just going to keep tottering till we fall over?

I can’t go out.
I can’t breathe in.
I need to shout
But can’t say why I’m grieving.

Shades of Pastel

Innocent yet no one feels more guilty.

The wisdom of the ancients but full of naivety. 

Beautiful beyond belief but marked by self doubt. 

Sweet but sour like a luscious stout. 

You look for that which you should be listening for. 

You reach out for that for which you should be looking to your inner core. 

Uphill and slippery,

Not given much to chivalry. 

Assuredly uncertain, always questioning, 

Yet still sure as a reckoning. 

Do you walk or just sit around? 

Do you talk or just stand your ground? 

Just like the aftermath of a wine spill,

Somehow just never able to chill. 

In my arms or in my heart,

Still held dearly though so far apart. 

There’s a lot to put on one page 

And this is just the first stage. 

Ontological

What’s the point of running if you can’t come to a stop?

What’s the use of sitting if you can’t get up?

Of what use is believing if you can’t take a knee?

How can it be fair when we’re not treated equally?

Who wants a rose that can’t be held?

What do you do with iron you cannot weld?

Is there any good in being slick if you can’t feel friction?

How good is a tale if it’s all just fiction?

How can you be unique if you’re not truly different?

How can it be clear if it’s not really apparent?

How can you love if you’ve never really lost?

Is hell different from the purgatory of Faust?

How can you live for so many years and only take a second to die?

If honesty is the best policy why is it so easy to lie?