Choosing Life

Energy holding back energy,

consuming itself --
reaction sparked long ago
by an adult's mad compulsion
to overwrite a child;
tender buds of truth
cast rudely underfoot
before they could blossom,
spontaneity shamed,
innocence mocked --
theft whose underlying script,
tenacious and annihilating,
continued to plunder the years:

"You, as you are, have no right to be."

But I answer now
(for it is never too late):
I am.

Of Tunnels and Walls

"Today" is like an enigmatic tunnel,

bright and without visible walls,

giving the illusion of

an unobstructed view;

meanwhile,

numerous peripherals
drawn in yesterday's colors

hide behind shadows

that I cannot see,

elusive bricks 

of a forbidding wall

as dense as it is

invisible.

Who can see, after all,

that which one has

forgotten?

Shades of Person

Shades of person

rushing in,

slipping out,

causing a din.

Shades of person

sharing space,

nature torn

behind one face.

Shades of person,

sisters and brothers,

joint knowledge of some things

and not of others.

Shades of person

plus one empty shell:

Guardian only,

but who could tell?

Trenches 101

Face-front, face-right,
face-left, face-back;

or better -- just spin, instead.

The goal:  To scan
all four directions

with eyes in the back of your head.

Do it promptly, do it fast,
do it subtly, do it well --

do it over and over again.

Repeat when you hear a branch break

or a rustle round the bend.

Be alert to shadows looming,

especially back-left or back-right.

Listen for unnatural sounds

as twilight fades to night.

Watch your head and watch your feet

and check from side to side:

Basic instinct protocol

when one can't run and hide.

In the Grip

Awakened! --

to the night holding its breath,

past having entered

while I slept,

air electric

with watching and being watched,

molecules observing molecules observing something (me?) --

something past 

and

something present

jelling . . .

stalkers of empty space

formless, pulsing,

humming mutely.

Hearing their eyes

(through a sense I cannot explain),

I dare not move

for fear of being

seen.

At Bay

The fissure is felt daily

as I move from hour to hour,

an opaqueness in back references

over which I have no power,

a blank between the shorelines

of the old life and the new,

stretching forth to hold at bay

cogent links between the two.

Memory plays hide-and-seek

with signposts abruptly showing

then vanishing all over again --

stashed away beyond my knowing.

Feline Flash

Shadow below,

movement underfoot --

eyes check.

Perhaps the cat. 

But no. 

Silent holder of secrets, 

diminutive guardian
long asleep in the earth,

what (perhaps I should wonder),

did the cat know?