Like a phoenix rising-
my renewal too,
was born of ash.
It was a turning
of the tables
where my would-be destruction
seeded
ressurection.
Still alive,
still writing
I've strengthened,
found solidarity
and understanding...
- a realization that
this is
neither
crazy or frivolous
- never a waste of time.
And yes,
I've friendship,
a communion
and found
" meaning"
at times,
ephinanies...
tiny jewels-
like the African proverb:
" Until the lion learns to write
all stories praise the hunter."
Poet,
I discover truths
everywhere.
Like the knowledge of a mosaic,
made of broken pieces-
but still a work of art.
And too,
that even midst pain
joy buds
in kind words
or through music,
through food-
the fabulous
flavors
and
in sleep, so silken
and soothing-so
deliciously deep.