The Wolves

Where do the wolves go
when their night feet have wandered
through dreams and through shadows,
spilled the milk of the moon into
pools of light on window sills?
Have they spoken their prayers,
their curses and sympathies
into the ears of wild children
before they are gone?
Whose wolf eyes water at
the coming of dawn;
some mournful sound lingering
to draw out the night
and to keep at bay the clamor of bells
the noise and the rustling of
so many human clothes?

I once had been known
to abandon my bed and I saw them,
their backs thin like shadows
or the air under snow,
and I think they have seen me
and recognized
for they have not returned–
my gaze must have caged them,
held them like sinners
beneath the bristling cold of their wiry moon.

©K Paige Medina 02 January 2017

Advertisements

The Illusion of Silence

Heat overtook the world
For a moment,
Bubbling its insistent movement into froth,
Jumping and excited,
Churning with the massive
sluggishness of magma,
Unapologetically leaving flames
Awoken momentarily into angry dancing
By a passing heat —
A scorched moment.

But then,
With the suddenness of nightfall,
The world cools
Briefly,
Water drifts into crystal shapes,
Time fractures,
White static hushes it all
Into the illusion of silence.

Peace on earth —
Snow on naked branches —
We must be silent
Before the world once more
remembers
The heat of its mouth.

© K Paige Medina 11/17/2016

Suspension

Is there a creature left on earth
Unafraid of falling–
Of the violence of shaken ground,
Of time suddenly stalling–
Do fish flung back to sea
Feel relief or feel afraid?
Are they sorry then to cease the
Soaring flight that they had made?
Can they mourn the loss of flying
Though it ended in a fall,
Or do they swim away instead
And never fear at all?

For I’ve been flung, myself,
Into abysses I have known,
And never been the happier
For once more falling home.

©K Paige Medina 6/30/16

Orlando

The darkness of a keening world,
no longer bared to light–
the untipped scales of one man’s hate
prowling through the night.
We reach for answers like a shield
that blocks us from the truth
that wafts away like gunsmoke or
the impermanence of youth.
The nights we sought to quell the sound
of being all alone
were shattered into violence
the minute we found home.

By morning light we heard the news,
awoken into fear
by bitter voices importuning
how could this happen here?
These others, fallen shells of hope,
these others who have sinned,
we kept them far away from us,
the self-righteous, till the end.

Nostalgic for the silence of
indifference or fear,
no glooming peace this morning brings,
no peace at all, for we’re
the judges and the jury
for the ones we left to die
collective in their plaintive call,
the hardest question—“why?”

Why did we leave them in the night,
these vibrant castaways
to suffer judgment all their lives
until one violent man’s choice sways
the opinions of the populace
into graceful mourning sounds
as if we held them close to us,
as if we’d ever found
a reason to see in them
some of our humanity–
no, now it is our turn to cry,
“why’d you take them away from me?”

We’ve torn ourselves asunder
trying to pronounce the blame,
but truth is we’re all culprits
in a crime we’ve yet to name,
that states we’ll sit in silence
through intolerance and bigotry
until we feel absolved through
some new mass tragedy.

Awaken into struggle
do not fear your life’s true pain,
Offer up your sacrifice of loss,
Don’t let it happen again.

[6/13/16]
© K Paige Medina