I start off in half light
as I walk through the firs and pines
the ground is littered with needles
windblown
the air is filled with the smoke of a newly
stirred fire
and the air hangs heavy and hot
passing an old ranch
the ancient willows have been violated
and the road is carpeted with branches
freshly torn
down the road an old cottonwood
lies broken on the earth
all evidence of a violence
which stirred in the deep darkness of the night
so too
at times
my life bears mute evidence
of the violence within
evidence of a self, a soul
torn asunder
and in the half light of awareness
surrounded by rubble
one breathes
and the clean-up begins
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