images © tamaya
what more does the planet have to do?
she has given us
food, water, beauty, friendship
we have taken and killed without remorse
we have created poison and mindlessly spread it
we have become jealous and territorial
we take what does not belong and say it’s for the good of all
we have created a class based on the colour of our skin
we have given more importance to possessions then life
we are building walls to guard our insecurities
we allow money to run our planet instead of our hearts
earth was not created by humans
she /he/it is more powerful then we can comprehend
how much more will she take
before she rises her waters once more
before she holds the sky in her fist once more
before she claps her hands and deafens us with her thunder once more
earth will survive without us
if and when we destroy everything she has given us
she will survive
her seeds will grow and break the asphalt
they will cover and heal the planet once more
the oceans will rest till the rains come
from the moisture of the forest and heal the coral reefs once more
humans are not needed for the planet to thrive
somewhere in the universe
there are answers
there are mirrors everywhere
reflecting images of you
lingering memories
time suspended above our heads
following us like a cloud or bubble
why do they linger
unfinished conversations
misunderstood moments
do they just linger
wanting,,, more of what was
time taken too quickly
I may have begun a transformation
my hands may have changed
nails, long and curved like a birds claws
the keen awareness of a crows eye
may now be my eyes
my hooked nose transformed into a beak
flying in the night when the moon is bright
looking for drifting moments of time
gathering our words that float loosely in the sky
many believe that cutting the wires that hold us
will relieve the tension and we will be freed
freed to what conclusion I ask
free to look aimlessly into the sky
wondering what or why
we are told to love purely
we are told to honour our grief when the time comes
then we are told to leave it behind
to start a new
this might be the part
too difficult for me to do
my heart grows tired
covered with morning dew
let me sleep by the waves
so I may hear the music
of departed hearts
bring me back to the waters
so I may float in peace
looking into the mirror
seeing a reflection
glare of wonder
will the image change
if I lock on and freeze eye to eye
a slight burning of the lids distract
floaters passing by like fluffy clouds in an open sky
when they dissolve and the mirror is again in focus
for a moment an image is captured
or a thought is born
no one really knows
I look again and
past my reflection deep into a corner
I see life of a past time
like a movie reel ticking along
is our life present connected to our life past
do each play out in different zones
have I discovered the rabbit hole to my own existence
how often does our life play out
does my mirror reflect inside
reflect inside, reflect inside, inside, inside
past becoming present
present becoming future
is my life a kaleidoscope of time
do I even exist or
am I just a flash of light in the mirror
are these my thoughts
my handwritten words
am I a form of electromagnet energy bits
collecting and passing time
is that me I see in the mirror
or is it something else
something I don’t yet understand
I ache for the solitude of my mind
memories are a river
flowing over a bed of stones
swimming against the current
tires me, weakens my will
my hands raw from grabbing branches passing
toes scratched and bleeding
hitting debris of partially covered metal
garbage thrown mindlessly
We do not deserve this planet
for we do not know of sharing
the constant spitting of foul words
over land that cannot be owned by any humans
every child born is a breath of hope
for they do not enter with hate and prejudice
formed in their minds
Are my memories selected from the riverbed
do I only walk on the rocks I prefer
choosing my memories carefully
leaving buried in the sand
moments to difficult carry
is this justice or survival
this question surfaces often
do we recreate the past
making it palatable so we can move on
or is this just living a lie
do we all live these lies
there is no comfort in great numbers
A stream is created from the abundance of rocks left on the riverbed
it rises and depletes with the flow
soon there will be no rivers flowing to the ocean
only dry riverbeds
full of our leftover unpleasant memories
thrown into the waters like scrap metal
left till someone swims by and cuts flesh
blood flows in the stream
absorbed by the wet earth
the seeds and life has to grow
do we really want them to start with our mistakes
our hatred, our jealousy
I have no answers
no solutions
I can only try and carry my own rocks
to the river’s edge
so it may support the earth from falling in
if a stream is hope
then the river is ambition
the ocean is acceptance
the rain is sharing
no human or country can ever own the clouds and rain
is that why my eyes always look to the skies
looking for those beautiful clouds that dance and bring hope
one thousand
five hundred
words of hope
LUV
Widowed Without A Manual 