I’m sitting in this courtyard

inspired by Moors lingering

in conquistadors’ blood, tiled over

the bones of the Seminole.  Citron

fruits and white flowers flirt

in the bright jade hedge

creating an island of shaded

serenity.  Sipping delicious

coffee grown in Peru. This clever

teal chair was made in China

through slave labor and toxic-

earth techniques.  Wherever

a scent of my desire lingers,

there follows war.  This economy

of greed insists that I am

wanting, each spoil

of battle packaged with flair

and billed as the magic pill–

new and improved–to settle

my roiling guts as I stumble

over the corpses that bring me

to now.

Turns out my needs

are few: air and water

and listening, a generous

receptive heart, a release

of my defenses as the tide

pounds in, polishing broken glass,

crushing delicate shells to this

fine white sand I walk upon.

There is no I.

There is no sanctuary.

We dance asleep until

a quick scarlet flutter

startles glimpses awake.

Inspired by: Delicious, War, Island and Wherever.

Published by

Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

5 thoughts on “Interconnected”

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