melissaahowells
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******** ******** ******** ******** last year the Spring leaves made a silhouette on my upper bedroom wall and ceiling as if God, Himself, had cut out folded paper leaves-- the details so precise and delicate they were there adorning the wall for me to see when I woke up from my late afternoon nap pantomiming real life saw-toothed edge crisp and giving my artist's eyes a gift of simple yet refined happiness today I woke and saw once more the silhouette of the leaves but the shadows were altered they remind me instead of how far removed I am I can no longer pretend to be perched high in a tree-house home; I am not Jane to my partner's Tarzan this is not a leafed nest in some primeval rain forest outside the entire world is ravaged by mistrust, hate, prejudice and disease some of it malingering ailments and others, perhaps, a planned accident by some careless madman these all are long ingrained experiences in the frail humanity called mankind it is more than unkind it is a huge systemic failure to see and to care and to understand how much alike we are in our fragility now as I watch the shadows on the wall lengthen into night I am aware that there is also gathering darkness in my room my thoughts only interrupted by the playing of taps by a broken tree branch upon the bedroom window ******** ******** ******** legal copyright for this poem 11:47 AM PST June 16, 2020 time/date stamped and also for this poet Melissa A. Howells and also for this legally copyrighted and REGISTERED site title Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World Vote for this poem |
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