We are our own beginnings, much like misty mornings that haul
maddened waters with ease; our actions
seeking to build bridges so as to connect with other languages
and cultures—lemon chiffon curiosity calmed, are they ever just words?
I have lounged under many a condescending sky;
cold grass crumpling underfoot; there is no softer way to undo wreckage,
a harshly lit blue
on the edge of a political precipice, words then are part of making
decisions, if this sounds far-fetched, refer again
to burly wood documentation.
A quickening of delusion, an empty thing, azaleas rubbing her eyes,
an echo of a forgotten substance,
we become the loveliest of shades when we realize we are stronger
together; te gustaria cenar conmigo (would you like to dine with me)
get the drift?
Is there a place next to your heart for me, the lessons I have understood
convey far less meaning otherwise,
what separates us must become the thing that binds us, I tell you,
build a bridge, come build a bridge with me,
no lusty nonsense, neither soundly derived nor well-placed,
we talk about making the right choices but inconsistencies haunt
instead—an arch reply, I am an argument, an iron band,
find me in quiet reflections,
undisturbed goldenrod hours, we are our own beginnings, so notice
what’s growing around the edges of the words of those around you;
fill the cracks with tone.
How else do we utilize layers of living and depths that have been
accumulated over the years?
Photo credits: Terrace with round table, Volkan Vardar, Pexels.
An early unveiling of April Poem-a-Day Challenge Day 28 🥠
Merril host at dVerse and invites us to write either a Puente
or a poem about bridges. Come join us! 💝
Posted for Poetics: “Build a Bridge,” @ dVerse Poets Pub