Green Fade: Let It Rest
This last summer day. Already we turn
toward darkness, sun collapsing into
ocean’s pale skirts. Blood of blueberries
only a memory staining a white dish.
All is aftermath. Now, the trees’ lacy
crowns eroding to fire. Furling petals
spiral like light in an afternoon breeze.
Our bodies’ rhythms rub against the hours.
It’s time to study surrender, learn not
to go to war with each leaking moment.
Imagine dancing like queens in winter’s
temples, nodding to children in the street.
This morning will not sit with our sadness;
the world is not broken, but born anew.
The catastrophe of the ancestors
forever changed this trembling landscape.
Their detonation at the precipice
split meaning. There was no longer before,
just apart, connections fallen away
from connectors, the system blown. Placid
theorists cannot know how intricate
the sequence; language can be unwritten,
a spell may be unspelled. When the shaking stopped,
dinosaurs were no longer earthbound, were
instead birds sparking across the sky on
exploding wings, never to land. Who knows
how we crossed from un-danger to danger,
eyes mesmerized by the color of smoke?
Terry Wolverton thinks of herself as a literary artist, because she is always driven to explore new genres and has had the opportunity to work in various media. She has published ten books of poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction, and created theater, performance art, an opera, installation and video art. Terry teaches creative writing, and also is an instructor of Kundalini Yoga studying herbalism.