Photo: Gregory H. Revera
Photo: Gregory H. Revera


Realisation like light
trickles –
through leaf shaped
thoughts – and I
am lost in
the forest. Eyelids
rise like the new sun
but this path is blurring,
obscured – he,
the moon hangs
low and waits
to be renewed.
It waits, a
full circle for me.
Realisation like light
trickles – it burns
the skin it touches
because I ignored
the initial whispers
of smoke.
I see the sky at
last- leaf shaped
thoughts fall
snow flurry
slow. I see my sun –
this dawn is an
The moon is
soft. It sinks.