Overt

You notice my feelings,
barely hidden by my mind's
frail denial,
scoop them up
tenderly
and hand them back to me
in your gentle, outstretched hands.

Summer Antiquing

Other peoples' things
sit, collecting dust,
on a crowded shelf,
waiting to stir up murky memories
which swirl around aimlessly
like soft, grey mud
at the bottom of the bay
when you step
oh so carefully
on a summer's evening.

Let me soar

to the heights.

Let me sever the strings

that hold me to the earth--

that are held so tightly
by those on the ground.

Let go

of the lines

that hold me

to the shore

and let me float,

my sails filled

with the breath

of the Spirit. 

In the late afternoon sun
I walk across the parking lot
willing my middle aged brain
to find where I left my vehicle.

I look up to realize
I am surrounded
by cars.

They hover
like giant square bees,
their turn signals nervously blinking.
Each one is certain
that they are the
anointed successor
to my soon to be vacated parking space.

A room of one's own, says Virginia,
is necessary to write Shakespeare,
but is it necessary
to be happy?
What remains after the
dust kicked up by the earthquake of life
settles?  Is there anything underneath?

Perhaps Words remain.
Words to God.  Words to self.
Words to the clean, crisp air,
floating out like silent sound waves
ready to be heard
by some secret someone
in an unseen future.

Uncanny

from dead to living
in unspoken alliance--
habits are passed

This week's Haiku Bones Prompt--Uncanny

The Mirror

She rises, sightless,  from her bed
and walks about the house,
comforted in its inky blackness;
Aware of an unseen trajectory
each obstacle is avoided by visionless eyes.

She comes upon a wall and
gazes in terror...
the sound of a scream
piercing her agreeable dormancy,
and sees her own
face.