I am riding into the night on reflective chestnut horse
Winged and star bound, my carrier bounds freely
Bringing me crisp white paper cut outs of your heart
So that I may be able to see into the spaces and
Trace over the holes and pieces to understand all
We don’t know how to love each other, do we?
The paths to unraveling destruction always clear
Our searing street to revenge, slick and even
Anger’s mouth so quick to have a fiery voice
Caught up in the net of our own self making
So contained in our own vision of what we need
Our loved ones walk openly with cavernous gaps
With cloistered eye we never seem to see them
We cry out to white paper, for it always listens
We can’t just clip the roses and give without hope
We must also give the water and the ground to grow
If not, our destiny will indiscriminately end in flight
Phantom Winged Horse
Posted in Poetry
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