Out There Now

Drafting out again. Drafty drafty.

Out There Now

Can we find peace?
I, the sum of my parts
am alone
in this minute.

Alone, with time
and its shapes that wrap
around like cobwebs in the night,
slick with dew
in the morning or broken
by a boy in the woods
– thick with feet,
soles pitter-patter over moss
and peat.

What we have
is our blood
in the soil,
humanity among
the grasses.

I long for a life beyond
bureaucracy, autocratic hierarchy
– give me leaves,
whole with green.

© Hayden Westfield-Bell, 2012


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