‘The meek shall inherit the Earth’

even a cloud leaves a shadow, in my dream a bird builds its nest in my steel toed boots 

and one day, these pages will press clovers with the weight of other books and maybe time.

both growth and grief are lurking-

so i am turning over memories like rocks, 

even a cloud leaves a shadow 

all the while,  the light of the moon shining on the cave wall reveals a hidden door,  with the turn of a key- dust covered pieces of myself sigh with relief 

— though now,  as i try to rest, my heart slowly thumps in between my ear and the pillow. 

in the room with one chair i am always standing. 

                                                                                      the cobblestones, tell me, i used to be a mountain

i have asked before- if something changes when you share it with someone.

sending out pigeons every afternoon when the sun sinks.

 tying letters to their remarkable ankles.  

hoping, half of me, can get to you before the sun rises.

if i am burning the past, it has to grow into something new and green eventually. 

a box of matches still wrapped in plastic, sits on my makeshift nightstand 

i put everything you ever gave me in a drawer over the bridge with the bottom already falling out. 

the sun sets again , i have a thought- i want to overcome my feelings of inadequacy. 

then i don’t mean overcome  like a knight slaying a dragon, i mean like a child petting a dog. 

an almost indistinguishable act of understanding