Gabriel Burns
Weapon
And all the wars
those eyes of yours
have started,
and all the gore
blown open in the hearts
like grotesque gardens,
by beauty, battle-hardened,
yes, all of this is lost to words;
none ever cross
the lips of worlds
exhaling in the fallout
following the meltdown.
Water (Circle)
She, the river
pushes forward.
Unbeknownst to us
she goes skywards
pulled by the hands of the sun,
travels farther and higher,
falls back down
to soothe the dust…
Tender, this time, softer,
lighter than before.
And each of us becomes her shore…