Touching Points
Painted walls
along sterile halls,
echo with the sighs
and loud, piercing cries,
of souls trapped
in weak fragility-
web-like crevasses
and lines etched deeply
into paper-thin,
translucent skin.
Memories
behind plexiglass,
encapsulate lives
into touching points
along a timeline-
though tears pool behind
clouded eyes reliving
each vivid moment
as though it was,
only yesterday.
Ethereal Masterpiece
Gazing, gasping, and gaping in awe,
as I behold a tapestry most majestic
with multitudes of intricacies woven,
light, life, and love spun into threads
intricately placed by the Master’s hands.
Staring at beauty extravagant pondering
the source of His inspiration with
emotions whirling, voices praising,
worship pouring out, acknowledging
His image embedded within each strand.
Communion
Golden slanted rays of light
Illuminate the mundane
Treasure plain to human sight
Seconds pass and gone again.
Sacred moments touch the heart
Breathing stops, a sense of awe
Stillness falls, time set apart
Spirit can’t resist the draw.
Childhood Nightmares: A Haiku Chain
Furnace downstairs hides
the pointy-nosed bogeyman
climbs out to chase me.
Neck hairs stand up straight
cement wall Chief’s headdress shadow,
no window across.
Humanity Lost
Grief and loss most profound
Teeters on shaking ground
Molten rivers of tears
Erupt from latent fears
Mouth silenced by a mask
Pressured to take the vaxx
Division, hatred, strife
Slowly devalues life
Media’s shame and blame
Stokes embers into flames
As depression taunts
Loss of freedom haunts
Our dreams.
A Moment Outside Of Time
My twelfth summer – the ocean of my innocence – cast an asteroid into my sea – pulling me down, like a milestone around my neck. Gigantic ripples broke the time barrier, touching every moment forward, etching every word wielded as a whip, like the rings inside a tree.
Wildfire
Haze hangs like a shroud,
blocking out the sun
blue skies turn to beige
streaked with red and orange
pale ash falling as
acrid snow.
Thin Places
A door has shut without recourse,
now flung aside I bleed out red
my footing gone, my vision’s fled
unseen by those without remorse.
Each painful breath inflames my heart,
I try to speak but silence mocks
as spastic legs and crooked socks
deny my dreams now torn apart.
Land Of The Living Skies
Rolling prairie is not barren tundra,
devoid of life be it flora or fauna.
The vast open grasslands beckon
calling to the wild inside us all.
Gopher heads peer out from holes,
watching antelope jump and play.
Buffalo roam the open country
or hunker in tree-shaded sloughs
Fire Within
Flames,
of orange and red
flicker, twist, dip, and bow in
a mysterious
counterpoint dance
tiptoeing on edge as
music orchestrates
in staccato fashion
crackles, pops, and snaps
punctuate the ancient dance
mesmerizing human eyes
Heather Hancock - Author, Editor, Ghostwriter 