The morning of pouring rain
Breaking to sunshine
Led all to relief
As the surf shimmered
In its rumbling indifference

Assembled beneath the tree of trees
Who will outlast us all
In arched cathedral of its own making
Futures yet to be imagined were lost
By mutual assent

Would that I could return to the moment
Of concerned recognition
Unfolding before me writ in paper plates and squalor
And fully read upon closer examination
A tale of denied woe and desperation

I would counsel
Red flags are still red in passionate darkness
Ere the morning take your leave
Find yourself
Before you lose yourself

©Heather Coldstream


About cistotrans

A Seattle-area trans woman seeking a happy spot to stay at along the path of transition.
This entry was posted in poem, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s