I'm home alone immersed in silence
while I stain blank page with my thoughts -
from unhealing wounds.
I'm sorry but I can't clean this page,
it exists here before you
as testimony of this world's
I made the mistake of watching
how those who record our lives, may shape them too
as they go along focusing on who is wed,
who not, while in the same telebreath
they show pure fear.
Ebola is not all that's contagious.
Fear has been lurking, waiting
to be fertilized, energized, televised
infecting the world with terror.
We are all victims and villains in this epidemic
of war, devastation, cruelty to each other, to our planet.
We are all fighting in different directions,
by turning our heads, by confronting our dis/ease.
I'm not judging. Just noticing
how this is in me.
Noticing too that silence isn't always soothing,
it allows those voices I've intentionally muffled
to shout, trying to wake me up.
I've slept too long.
From the corner of my eye, I see my plant
quietly exuding wisdom.
She helps me, communicates that somehow
all WILL be as it should be.
I don't fully understand.
But while I've been ranting,
she's simply been growing greener.
(Submitted to Dverse Poets.)