Collateral Damage

God, but I was thirsty -
thirstier than I'd ever been,
I heard my young one cry out
"Mama!"
And even my tears
turned to rust
just like the river,
just like the Sea.
But it's ok;
this isn't meant for me.
This is a plague
for the Powers that Be -
the King of Stones and Sun.
We merely wait,
Collateral damage.

The stink of rot is strong,
but I can be stronger still,
tho my skin is marked
by runnels of rusted red,
testament to the itch
and sting
of all those things
that fly
and crawl
and skeetch across
my body.
And my baby cries -
weakly, tired from all
the swatting
and swelling
and fear.
but this is a plague
for the King of
Stones and Sun.

I thought  the rains would
bring a cleansing,
curtain of water
and life, but no:
the storms came, with
searing hail that
burned my skin
and tore through the land,
leaving little for the
locusts to devour,
except perhaps those few
carcasses still left;
cows that had died
Mysteriously.
Plagues are like that;
they steal everything,
even gods that
masquerade as cows.
Even light.
Even life.

And the darkness
weighs like stones
on my back
and I can barely
lift my arms
to shield my young one
from the Ghosts
that haunt the darkness.
She does not cry
any longer.

The King of Sun and Stones
carries these plagues
that have bent him
and bowed him,
that have stolen
his land
and his love
and his son.
His first-born son
the one he loves,
lies lifeless
in his arms,
Collateral
Damage

Ten Thousand Doors

Ten thousand doors.
Ten thousand rooms.
Ten thousand shades of
Beige, with floors of wood
and wool and pictures on the walls,
framed photos -
that capture time in black and white.
Each carried from room to 
room to ten thousand rooms 
of endless beige,
carried trough ten thousand
doors that open and close:
Pictures to capture
a life, of whispers and sighs,
of moments framed by light and
coffee cup clutter. 

An infinity of doors and walls
and pictures hung,
Suspended, bursting with
Life, of whispered
hope and shouted sighs,
that pierce the walls 
built 'round my heart.

And laced through all that
dust and coffee cup clutter,
through ten thousand doors.
and ten thousand rooms
of ten thousand shades of 
infinite, endless color and beige,
There is you.

Ten thousand doors and you,

the home of my heart.