Anger

Brown twig,
On the ground.
Bent upon itself,
Stiff.

Small shoots
And buds.
There was life.
It once bent in the wind.

Now it lies,
Among the fallen leaves.
Who have lived.

Fear and Longing

The centre.
Black tinged with chocolate.
Magneta?
Throbbing Flesh.
Pink, Red.
Streaked.

Where is the child?

Looking without?

Perplexed eyes?
Pained?
Uncomprehending?

But I KNOW.
I can see.
Shall I step in?

But it is all me.
Everywhere.

The other is without.
Everywhere.

How do I step out?
To be in?

Migrant

They stand
Like a bunch of flowers,
Dumped in a large vase.

Fallen to one side
Each huddles with the other.
The open vase fills with dread.

I pass by,
And smell the fear.
I refuse to acknowledge.

I will, by myself,
Walk with dread,
In the vast open space.