His failures are beautiful strokes of lightning
The waterfall running
A beautiful warning
A star still forming
A winter mourning

He falls like icebergs crumbling in the sea
A white snowfall covering the trees
The wind in the evening as you finally feel the breeze
A moment of reckoning that brings you to your knees

© Delia Ross. 2020

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I wonder under all the dust and worry
Does he ever wish he took a different journey
Will he change the ink and start a different story
Can he clear his vision where it has been blurry

Where the wall is high and the gate is locked
Where her head appears where a door is blocked
Where she keeps her eye on the prey she marked
Where the middle is the plan she plot

And I a whisper or a thought
Or just a dream he never caught
Or a reason he never saught
Or the love for which he should have fought

It matters not if I am up or down
Or if I am sideways or standing
My love for him is never-ending
And should be worn like a crown

© Delia Ross. 2019

WOW, look at the monster you have become
Growing bigger but rarely numb
The hate warms me so I succumb
I grant it entry, and let it come

© Delia Ross. 2019

She waits by her solace
Weightless is a promise
Desires hot as August
One soul he’ll never notice

Patience wears like tattered dresses
Diving head first into second guesses
Hope is the response of any message
Long is delay when searching for senses

© Delia Ross. 2019

Calling wisdom…
to see through all the horse shit
of your flimsy words
those jelly-limbed actions
flailing so selfishly and blindly
out in front of me
I’m calling wisdom…

Calling wisdom…
to untangle all the wires
of your dangling contradictions
Cut through the paper masks
of all your posturing
that you’re completely lost in
I’m calling wisdom…

Calling wisdom
to cast a dim light on your thinking
what train of thought
you caught to get to here
these decided sidings
of this line’s end
I’m calling wisdom

Calling wisdom…
to map a human sense of things
the fucked foundation you’ve been building on
is cratered and crumbling in upon us
and burning bricks and buried bones
are all that I can know now
I’m calling wisdom…

Calling wisdom…
to put in place a forest of words between us
brush blooming plants to hide the muddy path
that we spun down…