Right Now
Terri Lynn Cummings
stories awaken
shimmer on limber branches
each one a given
in this glimmering
within the heart’s glade, adrift
death plants a seedling
grief shivers, wretched
time ceases in one heartbeat
cuts veins, indulgent
hiding in plain sight
no one sees the hand of light
eclipsed by the moon
a lake filled with tears
composure dives off a cliff
while friends bring the raft
memories connect
gemstones fastened and secured
breaking nightfall’s clasp
the weight of bones, strong
as loyalty, a kindred
spine ancient as time
a tender silence
quickens sorrow’s intellect
suckles fresh gardens
new stories blossom
shimmer on limber branches
each one a lesson
Poet’s Notes: Nine years ago, my husband and I lost our teenaged son to disease. Recently, my brother-in-law lost his 27-year-old son in a cliff diving accident. If one lives long enough, the lesson of death is imparted and clarified, over and over, lest we take life for granted…. Loss does not leave room for words. Therefore, I chose the brevity of haiku for each stanza.
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