Intelligent Survival

An hour after sunrise, birds wing
messages of import.  I struggle
with labels or toss what I’ve captured
with careless expertise
–I know you–

I miss the subtle lessons. Today
I’m disorderly, walking stunned
from dreams and a bleeding
body. Captured rebel in denial
— oh, god, not again,

is this my eternity, suffering
until the stillness resonates and
the ledge appears? Where is my camp
along the raging river? We enter this
war-torn realm

with pure and open hearts accept
agony our loved ones inflict until
we close just so and then again.
Again. The walking wounded
teach us to pretend we are not one,

we do not see, we cannot feel
each other’s pain. We turn our tears
and rage into joking matter,
an energetic trick, sly digs
at the lies we’ve buried.

Ecstasy denied us in its explosive
layers, we’ve settle, muting
colors, limiting the scales,
sounding half-hearted survivors,
so la, the twisted notes we sing.

Inspired by: Rebel, Eternity, Capture and Camp.

Published by

Victoria Stuart

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

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