One Word: without
without rain
I am dry and cracked
future mud
ever waiting racked
with need for something
I can’t even name
to tame the wild flame
of wishful thinking
sinking to the bottom of
the well of all I ever wanted
haunted by the ghosts
of many lives long
past the corner of
the street I used to walk
the ghosts could talk to
you but won’t they’re
mine and mine alone
atone for sins not understood
but do we even
if we could would we
make the change
arrange our lives just
so adjustment made
a sacrifice
for rain
racked
with need for something
I can’t even name
to tame the wild flame
of wishful thinking
sinking to the bottom of
the well of all I ever wanted
You blue, hermana? Beautiful poem.
Not really – just knocking the words around. “Without” conjured up sad things. And then I watched Mad Max, Road Warrior. It’s been a random kind of day.