Thursday, July 17, 2014


Sprinkle the acts
of  kindness
as if one day
they would break ground and sprout.
Become a tree
A house.
A shelter. 

Empty room

Phone rings in the empty room
Faraway ground shudders
Unanswered hand, unspoken words.

Silence hangs still
Becomes a body bag
Later, a shroud.

Over the dead, grow
the trees of geneology.
One branch here too short.

And for years that come
An uncrossable
bridge of silence.