Dark mist rising,

Drum beneath a keening sky –

This scent of loam, of leaf, of yearning,

Of memory’s wail

And piacular’s cry...

Penitential ruminations,

Longings anew, ignored.

One evanescent expiation,

One understanding forward...

Revisit and addition to an old friend during this forced virus pause.

Beneath the sand cloak
Our hidden fears awaken.
Blind eyes see no claws.

In the country of the blind,
     Where men refuse the seen,
     Where oblivion reigns
           and denial rules most proud.
     Where seers prate and preen
           the falsehoods of the day.
In all the darkened corners
    One-eyed beggars see the light.

We bloom between rocks,
     Rooted between pain and loss.
Clefts allot our hopes.