Sky Leaves | Linda Chown

Versions of Grieving

Grief is about a whole new trip that just keeps on
     getting older.
Grief is how it feels to have two left feet.
Grief is how it feels to be dehydrated in your arms
Grief is how it feels to be lost
in always
Grief is though how it feels 
to be perpetually free.
Grief is the birth of a new beauty only you can see.
Red peonies and orange daisies on a spree 
What a feast for the likes of me.

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The sky was changing

The sky was changing
The land is tilted
However, will people till  their silence to sound 
To lubricate a cry of save this earth, 
To give life biblical feet?

My long foot has a fleck of the august Salmon River 
We Westerners as always do shine together.
My body increasingly an outcast of my loss and their anger 
This body touched by a sadness which is not mine alone
How do I bring me back jocular and light struck 
Can we change one 
How do I help us 
Emigrate  literacy here 
To this moral wasteland

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Don’t lose the touch of your leaves

Once on a bright road in Pennsylvania 
I wondered how one gives up
The silence of solitude all its equality,
To go in a throng your face buffered in a herd, in a sometimes huffy light. 
Your mouth forever watching how to say 
To find how your bells ring in the midst of multi talk,
How do you hear yourself? 
How can you touch your own leaves?
Will your dreams still speak to you?
Does being we have to lose you?

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©2023 Linda Chown
All rights reserved

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