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REST

Gray, damp, 
Overcast, 
Is the sky
Behind dark trees.
Mildew is growing,
Blooming black,
The road is Sand, 
Deep and dry.
Plants hang limp
With thirst. 
Work is futile.  
I sit and rest,
While drinking tea.
I watch leaves  
Gently sway,
As the slowly drift,
Falling away,
Falling.
Each one, 
Dancing alone,
Until, 
On the ground,  
They gather. 
I sit and rest.
I drink tea. 
The sky is gray.   
The  forest is silver.
The air is damp.
The sand is 
Dry, and deep. 
I sit, resting.
I drink my tea. 
I am older 
Than I was 
A little while ago.
Leaves gently sway,
Falling.

REST
Agawela October 29, 2022
ⓒBearspawprint2022
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David Heals

David
Is weary
So very
Weary
The Other
Saps his
Strength 
Away
While 
He waits
While hope
Dances
Around
And around 
He waits
Too weary
To dance
Too weary
For songs
For drums
For his bass
His music
Too much
Too weary
For stories
Too weary
He waits
In silence
For answers
That are
Silent 
Into
Silence
Comes 
The Wild 
.
David Heals
25December2021
©Bearspawprint2021

			

	
	



				
					


				
					


	

		
November 2019November 2021Darkness


				

			
				
			
					

			


		

		

November 2019
November 2021
Darkness   
.
Yes, I can 
Self-isolate 
For two weeks 
Not a serious 
Problem  
Bothersome   
Bearable
Though 
I can see 
Time telescoping  
Stretching 
A prison of 
Nothing into years  
Eternities of 
Lost moments   
The lifetime 
Of humans 
Shortened  
Or gone  
Over with 
Dead 
If there is 
No one 
No one 
Who cares 
Enough  
To cover 
The back 
Of another    
Protect from 
The sly betrayal
Whirling in a pool 
Of alone 
Waiting for those  
Instants mere 
Moments of trespass 
Carried in Greek in Latin 
Alphabets of contagion 
Two years
Has become eons 
This weight 
Of alone  
Has grown heavy 
My soul  
Transmuted 
Into foolish words 
And gray skies 
Grow Darker 
Night is falling 
There is no sunset  
.
November 2019 
November 2021
Darkness    
28November 2021
Bear ⓒBearspawprint2021

			

	
	



				
					


	

		


				

			
				
			
					

			


		

		

While tracking
My star,
Across the sky
Towards the west,
Following color
Streaks,
And the
Blackest
Deep,
Succumbing,
I closed
My eyes
Just for
A moment,
To rest,
So tired,
So weary was
This human flesh.
Then opened,
Startled
Awake.
The cosmos
Lurched,
A small
Gap.
My eyes,
Opened wide,
Saw the world
Had moved over
And I had not.
The ground
Was no longer
The same ground.
Red clay
Had become shale,
Sliding and unstable,
Mountains
And foothills
Pulled themselves
From beneath my feet.
I jumped and ran
But could not catch
Anything solid.
Nothing of
Substance,
Nothing
Of honor,
No truth,
What had been
Became what was not.
What would be,
Became,
What is never.
Running and
Running,
As soon
As my feet
Would feel,
Some surface,
And pause,
Only
An instant,
Only to orient,
To take
A direction
Reading,
Solid became
Liquid
And mud became mist.
I sank,
Clawing at
Words slipping
Away as breath,
As fog,
As illusion
Forcing me
To leap and
Prong, and
Fly dancing
In pursuit
Of the reality
That had gone,
Leaving my perceptions
Blinded by
Streaming tears,
My song unheard
In anguished echoes,
No meaning
But a garble of loss.
The old people
I knew,
Became new people
With different lives,
New relationships,
That I never
Dreamed in
The dreaming worlds,
Never touched
In the
Waking worlds,
These new worlds,
New beings,
Had been
Building
Themselves,
Generating
Shimmering surfaces
Only as approached,
Dissolving
When out of sight,
Described
With new languages
Of no meaning,
No feeling,
Only confusion,
A chaos new faces,
Grown older,
Grown different,
New ideas,
Translated fantasies,
Spoken in
Gibberish,
And I was
Spinning.
As each thought
Passed by me,
Tweaking my
Body,
Nudging me
To turn
A little,
To turn my head,
To my memory,
Turn and turn,
Turn my heart,
And a turn
A little
More, and
Turn more,
Faster and faster,
Until I became
A plasma wind
Spinning
In place
While all that
I knew,
As comfort,
As familiar,
As love,
Whirled around,
My spinning
Life,
My whirling death,
Dancing away
On a receding tide
Of regret.
I ran and
Ran dancing,
Crying for
Mercy,
Circling the
Abyss,
The deepest
Well of yesterdays,
Of lost
Tomorrows,
Dark shadows
Of never to be.
Spinning
Light,
Spinning
Plasma,
Hot,
Melted light,
Between what was
And what
Had now
Become
What is not.
My hair
Flew out
From my
Whirling head,
Each individual
Hair a voice
Screaming and
Whistling,
Calling spirit
Back
Into myself,
To become
All one
With the nothing
Of no hope.
I whirl,
One hand
Raised,
Open
To the vastness
That is beyond
The knowable
Seven Skies;
One hand,
Gentle across
My own
Beating heart,
And I turn,
And turn,
And I turn.
.
BECOMING WHAT IS NOT
Bear … 11.15.2015
ⓒBearspawprint2015