Where are you brother, where have you gone?
Are you in the space in between?
A wisp of smoke,
The corner of my eye.
I felt you then, but not anymore.
Towered like a mountain,
but moved like a shadow.
Barely disturbing the air around you.
Did you find your moving castle, brother?
Are you hiding still?
I don’t feel you.
Are you everywhere?
Or nowhere at all?
A poem about beauty and horror under the same sky.
What the blossom doesn’t know.
Transfixed by the fleetful beauty of the blossom tree,
Abandoning her beauty to the April without guilt.
Tiny pink floatlings carried away on the breeze like confetti.
Quietly celebrating the sun-spun serenity of this day,
Warm enough to feel weightless.
Petals laid a pink carpet just for me.
She could never fathom, still her petals fall.
Under the same sky, blood and sand are obscenely clotted.
A mother pleads to the clouds, a prayer unanswered.
Her branches know only wind and sun and the letting go.
But I know.
I wish I were a blossom tree.
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