Make Liquid the Light

Strange how–
still separated by time,
by a world made of spaces,
by mismatched frequencies of
speech and faith,
the undulating currents and currencies of
what it means to be human
in a world bled by the
needs we can’t deny or the pains
we choose to allow,
these borders we have built with hands
unfettered by memories of connection—
we still choose sometimes to
make wonder out of weapons and
make liquid the light that
illuminates the cracks in our facades and,
shimmering,
dies.

Was it ever that we were separate,
gods alone in our towers,
or were we merely children,
waiting once more for the freedom of play,
the work of souls
bound up in a momentary agreement that
for a small time,
we can smile in silence at the crackling stars we have made?

©K Paige Medina  01 January 2017

New Souls

We, the generation of new souls,
expect our happiness
and will not accept
less than what we’ve dreamed.
We, the inventors
stand poised at the helm of
time, ready to cast off
toward some unknown horizon.
But our world is smaller now,
a grid of power
round and full with the
magnitude of being,
consuming history with neon headlines,
we do not pace like our fathers, we
race like children,
demand like birds,
we yawp and will not stand
and
and—

These piteous throes
mere gestures for
we too are born
to die.
©K Paige Medina 10/4/2016