Broken – Page 33 – Iron Haiku

warm spring afternoon
rolling down a grassy hill
into a mass grave
–
wispy clouds-
grass stains and
smiling faces

putting down the phone
the harsh meaning of your words
doesn’t register
–
distant rain-
unexpected
lightning

by her bedroom door
listening to my daughter
cry herself to sleep
–
leafless boughs-
no resistance to
the howling winds

echoing silence-
bodies strewn haphazardly
on the downtown streets
–
an absence of birds-
villagers gather fish
in the receding sea

you can take my heart
and do with it what you will
I’m finished with it
–
driftwood-
sand dunes
strewn by the wind

cold and sterile rooms-
the emptiness of being
alone here with you
–
makeshift rafts-
icy waters
devoid of life

as the door closes
I wonder if you’ll ever
walk through it again
–
midnight-
the rustle of leaves
in an empty street

wishes of the past-
far too much wasted time spent
fueling my regrets
–
light rain-
a well tended garden of
unplanted seeds

aimlessly searching
for a place to lay my bones
when the light fails me
–
fresh engravings-
the morning sun
on frosted stone

this life all too brief-
a freshly fallen snowflake
melting in my hand
–
rebirth-
spring sky in
a robin’s egg