Ground Breaking Rules

When in childhood,

I once stood in the forest,

friends having descended the trail,

a night of surreal

exploration of the wood,

a morning fire,

a quiet reckoning.

 

Having forgotten a knife,

knowing it to be on a rock,

the rings of stone,

suddenly erupted

while coming upon,

the late night stories.

 

There is a blessing,

in the revisit,

perhaps a spiritual

guide,

a sense of

realizing Nature

needs such attention,

as my barely covered

feet stamped out

a reality of tragedy.

 

The reception of my friends,

a fatigue of waiting,

I recalled the story,

their laughter infectious,

imagining

if we had all been part of

an innocent scheme

to wipe out wood,

kept the lives of

eyes that met our silence

in the quiet of night.

 

We all do face our demons

in vivid flames of abandon.


© Thom Amundsen 2019

When Time Suggests Pause

Ready

I was

all indicators explained a motive

a rocky shelf, crags of decay,

unstable to the touch, delightful

in its visual splendor.

This is a place

we all know,

a safe higher ground

where time begins with a pause,

a reflection in that pool of despair.

When all the moments come together,

a flash of indecision,

a step toward …

and suddenly played aloud,

their laughter bouncing off the cliffs,

they peeked around the corner

to see the man on the ledge,

whispered to each other

in wonder,

while watching him walk back into the wood,

leaving only silent imagery.