A Poem a Day (264): Ragged

 

Ragged

 

This half-finished sacred thing,

an everything, lost and faded,

worn ragged, dull to the touch

yet bright, fortuitous, strong

in its unopposing fight to be.

We only half belong to anything,

set our sails and drift free,

search a straight fix unending

til the skies say it’s final,

this, our only reckoning.

 

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 21, 2020

 

A Poem a Day (263): Wrappings

 

Wrappings

 

Waves and waves of Christmas cheer,

wrappings and unwrappings to be devoured

by us children in a haphazard spree.

Paper birds fly, flutter with our hopes

and dreams and faith of a constant be,

of nothing changing to flux and reflux.

We are of a small unit, thriving alone,

unhurried to be out there, exposed, free.

Huddled in this warmth we pass parcels

around and around our circle of three.

 

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 25, 2020

A Poem a Day (262): Clouds

 

Clouds 

 

There are many things we only think of,

never giving voice. Invisible struggles faced

 

in numb fortitude. Cold blue mornings rife

with a surprising optimism, streaked out

 

and diced with clouds of grey by lunchtime.

Step inside hands filled to the brim

 

with listening, chance a second out.

They say “get a grip”, I see you slip

 

away into any shade of wordless right.

You make tall between mirrors of hate,

 

a negative energy unyielding. Position left

of field. A meandering river of applause.

 

The broadness of the oak line distils breath,

brings oxygen to your empty fallen places.

 

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 24, 2020