Forgotten Leaf

The plants on my bathroom windowsill
are purple veined, yellow veined,
emerging leaves.

They love the heat,
they thrive in humidity, moistness.
Behind them, outside the window,
it is cold, harsh, grey.

I spray their leaves,
they will brown and wilt if I don’t,
creating a loving climate for them.

One day I find hidden, at the base,
a forgotten leaf, completely brown,
wilting at the edges.

Now I spray the ones on top,
and lift them to find and spray
all the ones hiding underneath.

Light on Boulevard

Yes there is a light
and it is a ever renewing life, a hope, 
all the world cries it. 

Yes there is a light
in the green shoot
bursting through deadened concrete.

Yes there is a light
in the golden autumn leaves
shrivelling, falling
then emerging new green brightness.

Yes there is a light
in the bold and bright colours,
of the glass smashed underpass.

Yes there is a light
in the flowers given by neighbours
to someone in mourning.

Yes there is a light
in the entwined woven threads
of women’s safe belonging.

Yes there is a light, and it is on Boulevard,
and it is a ever renewing life, a hope,
and all the world cries it. 

My Tribe

I have found my tribe,
we carry inside our broken soul pots,
we cherish the mud and the shining stars. 

We go down deepest sea to the earth,
roots tying to truth.
Our eyes, our hearts,
calling to open.

I have found my tribe,
we are soul seeking healing
in the haggard, the longing,
in the mud and shining stars.