Cinders

Cinders

By

Lisa A.Williams

Anointed-

unknowingly

by

brick or board.

Trash,

they were called

those tow-headed girls  

wanting to purge

this dry christening

 which scathed

skin and soul,

it’s adornment

crushing the child chant

“names will never hurt me”

Lingering lyrics-

notes carried high

by those who sang

of

castaways

smelling of smoke and cinder.

Undetected by thought or word,

somehow they knew

the fire

was always smoldering.

Trash-

to be discarded,

unworthy.

They were singed

yet somehow

rose from the flames,

bore their blistering-

purified.

Dark Moon

Dark Moon

By

Lisa A.Williams

Beneath the Dark Moon

holding power,

my father’s steel cold fear

 hung heavy

 between us,

 as he lay dying,
 

     

in the

heat swelled 66 New Moon,

one day from independence,

sweating out life’s poisons

in a shaded room

seeking forgiveness

for old “sins” still haunting

his opiate dreams.

Trying to let go

fighting to stay,

 lost –

Wishing on a salvation

he never believed in-

and detachment
 sat nearby
never shedding
a tear.

 

All the Dead Doors

All the Dead Doors
By
Lisa A. Williams

All the dead doors

bolted, warped in

old time, sealed

barring entry to a past

so keen

    in fortune telling.

Stories-

long unspoken around

blazing hearths of kin

and truth.

Fathers’ wishes-

ashes now.

Mothers’ dreams-

cold, dead bolts.

Still, if I listen

heart remembers their

old songs,

if only I could hear

the true rhythm

of their words.

Sleepy Summer

Sleepy Summer

By

Lisa A. Williams

Sleepy Summer-

resting

on the arc of autumn

whose cascade of fiery hue,

arrogantly reminds

that even in dying

there is beauty.

Sleeping summer

burrowed beneath

the pure white blanket

of cold forgiving

waiting in the deep dark,

dreaming

of old worlds

and their clock-run consistencies

of time and season

where her lingering ghost,

is summoned

by desires

Of earth and flesh.

Dandelion Wine

Dandelion Wine

By

Lisa A.Williams

Two girls-

In a grassland

Of

  unwanted things-  

such nuisances in their

untamed growing

reaching for warmth,

eying  the clouds

in the lazy entourage

of blue beckoning.

Waiting to find

a place

as they mix the rain

with wild yellow-

tasting

the bitterness

of their creation.

Silent Morning

Silent Morning
By

Lisa A.Williams

I wish-

for the dawn’s

soothing silence-

streaming with  

 endless possibilities,

before living

steps in

 crowding the calm

and I can no longer

hear my own voice.

Ocean

Ocean

By

Lisa A.Williams

In your sound,

I am silent.

In your depths,

I feel forever.