BATTLES WITH MYSELF

a fault in the land

a storm that carries us into its abyss

later returned like a parcel to its core and tossed

like bones

 

a sun continues to burn

its equator presence steams across

the land evaporating entire rivers

 

there

hiding beneath the sand and stone

are remnants of fault

 

time tugs our tails

incessantly strands of hair are tangled in its grip

as one man sweeps

another groans

I reach out to both of them

 

answers precipitate in a rainfall

powered by a wind that splits trees:

towers of life fallen

 

I caught two drops of goodness

in my palm

and have shared them with you.