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V o l . 12 N o . 2 I want to break it to see how strong it is. Today already has enough destruction. What species is this? It's not a small bird, not a ground bird like chicken or quail. Perhaps a wading bird? An owl? A crane? A bird designed to fly. And what species am I? The same species that invaded Ukraine? My bones are heavy,
Tatiana Retivov
too heavy. Show me, departed bird, how to fly. Let me glide in today's blue sky, let the wind carry me, let thermals lift me to a place of lightness
On the 40th day I began to wonder About metempsychosis, How subtle it was: “Watch your step!” Or was it viewed thru My agenbite of inwit?
On the 40th Day
Prevailing, as it has, Over my perpetual Search for the miraculous. No longer hearing those Footsteps in the hallway, Or your sighs echoing The wind at dusk. However your spirit, Or is it your soul, Seems to be charging The solar lights hung From the branches Of my apple & pear trees, In the grey November sky. They blink frantically To reassure me That your Dasein is Unwavering, despite Your final travails, The fluttering eyelids, Then that final gasp. Rain and Maple
Carolyn Adams
