When or Ever
My dreams were moon-whispered songs–
if rain came, it touched with gentle fingers
and breathed honey-sweet breath on roses,
their luscious scent awakened with the sun.
storm winds beat with nightmare wings, and the seas
send lathered purple tongues to lick the rocks,
leaving bitterness to cling to them
like an ache
death come, an ever-expandable ship
sailing to the after–
and thousands of mothers cry why—
for what, and when
can never ever give you what you want?
My poem from the Oracle. As always, she knows what’s going on.