When the Bottom Fell Out

When the bottom fell out
from under everything,
jolting me from blistered hands
that had hung on to the cold steel rungs
too long,

I crumbled, ruminating on the failure,
befuddled by the opportunity to walk away.

When the bottom fell out
the walls of the well echoed,
bouncing with the sound of fear
and slippery with angry silent cups
of my own darkness and souring cream,

there was never anyone to blame
in this new place.

Now, when the frost is new on the grass
and the flowers wilt after the sun touches them,
it seems too simple to shrug off the end of the long summer
with a sigh and turn my back on the task of another death.

I am still exhausted in my old leather boots and cotton gloves.

but here again, when the bottom fell out,
wings suddenly grew out of a need to fly;

the new bird
pushed out of a nest
that was never meant to hold forever.

Before

Before the addiction,corrosion clicks in the mind.
The heart broadcasts a need to gather everything
like a wandering nun with only her clothes and a bowl
before God evacuates this desperate place of longing.

Before the shelling of thoughts begins,
let the mind rest in this moment.

The heroic Love will keep watch
with his hand on the breathing child within you
as light leaches into the blackness
where only the stars give consolation.

Shine there, in that very instance,
an exhalation,
an annulment of doubt.

Before you lift the thin edge of the glass to your lips,
smile at the warmth that will come home too soon.