Poems

Living


So simple this thing
that writes its name across my mind
fusing with my intellect.
This fussy habit
fingering finely the wrinkles
that appear on the back of a hand
as I peer, ever so carefully,
into the depths of what lives
behind my eyes.

So simple this thing
that writes itself into my memory
and exclaims in odd moments
that “This is what I am!”
That breath you are not aware
you are holding in, not yet..but soon.

So simple this thing
that speaks in whispers and treads
into places angels blush to penetrate
dark places, with light hopes.
That awareness that notates
each tiny change, as from birth
until the day breath stills.

So simple, so simple
the way a thought is simple
deceiving in its construction
simple..so simple it retains a complex awe.