The most vibrant stem must be cut down
so that its deeper root may grow,
waxing undisturbed;

our transient flourish sliced away
while the dominant will prosper,
thriving unimpaired;

sustained in fatal purity
until strength is stretched into weakness,
withering intact.



Occasionally there is a death.

A direct shocking abrupt termination
of that person’s hopeful journey in a jagged tragic crash
of horror, pain and blood and dirt and aftershocks.

Fragments.  Sending eddies in the flow for miles

And an hour or so of people’s lives
claimed by the entirety of one, at random:
all too fully human but diminishing with distance…

Fading…  Until the beat resumes…

the princess, dressed/bare

I sensed its chill: a skin of fishscale and of early light
on lingering sea mist beyond the limestone wall,
a gossamer translucence across her graceful bones

Which once held power at bay – but were cast down
since she had been so brave and dared and lost;
the chosen in dissent, fated to be free
plundered by her enemies, forgotten by her friends

To be remembered later / in a sweet and clumsy way
as people come and go / and stop and stare
in shallow speculation / at the finery and weeds
of a bold abandoned princess / pale daughter of the sea

Whose pretty ghost can count for little now, except for play
by kings or strident citizens or idle revellers,
her corse still dressed before, stripped bare behind…

Their humbled vibrant sacrifice, borne prostrate unto God.