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Poems


Broken Glass And Poppies

When my window broke
so suddenly
under your pressure
I wondered if it was an omen
that something else
had happened, unexpectedly.

The poppies are back
though they never left
I have seen them all year
here and there.
I always thought, secretly
and foolishly,
that as long as the poppies bloomed
our love would not die.
Perhaps there is new growth
For us in the new season.
Or perhaps I was wrong.

We are so sure of the others' guilt,
crossing out their answers,
so self-assured in our own correctness.
This is easier than walking
in their footsteps for a while.



A Manner Of Traveling

I awoke and found myself walking
along a muddy road,
dim with filtered light and an uncertain sun.
My feet were cut and bleeding.

I glanced back at my tracks and recognized nothing,
and saw small patches of my blood
in the dark damp depressions of my footsteps.

Yes, anger and love can co-exist.
This I know for I am both.

I am in an unfamiliar place.
The leaves and branches are wet with recent rain
and I cannot tell if I have been crying
or just walking with my face turned up to the sky.

I find my feet marching forward, steadily,
and I am astounded at the effort they are making
without my will.

Yes, decisions and no will can co-exist.
This I know for I am both.

I consider turning back but I do not remember
coming here. There is nothing to return to.
I am alone, though I see the eroded,
water-filled spoor of other walkers.

I am afraid, for I cannot see ahead
and do not know the future that my mind
is striving to see.

Yes, certainty and the unknown can co-exist.
This I know for I am both.

There are deep scratches on my exposed arms;
I do not recall crashing blindly through
wilderness, but clearly, I have done so.

I am thirsty and tired but there is no place to rest.
I feel this power pulling me forward.
I am trying to return to the birthplace
I have never seen, as birds and fish do.
I will not recognize it with my eyes but with my belly.

I want to feel sorry for myself, to have someone
comfort me in my distress, but I am alone,
with only my mind and body for company,
and the insects buzzing unseen above my head,
oblivious to my aching feet and confused mind.

Yes, pain and love can co-exist.
This I know for I am both.

There is the rich scent of vegetation around me,
fecund, growing, matted, decaying, life and death
in the same place and time.

I walk on and the smell lies heavily over
the damp vines and reaching trees above me.

copyright 2025 by Charles Hugh Smith, all rights reserved in all media globally.

 
 


Copyright 2025 Charles Hugh Smith all rights reserved in all media. No reproduction in any media in any format (text, audio, video/film, web) without written permission of the author.
 
                                                                         
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