Poem 300 – Three Hundredth Poem

Three Hundredth Poem

alone in the humble dark
before the sun shifts her crown toward the day
it is – interruption
a guttural sigh
wild-flame flickering
peace unsteady yet constantly peace-full

can’t remember the first one
hundreds of days ago but the
feeling of its beginning lingers here
in the ink and blood flow

what are they all for?
poems caught in the branches of
a majestic tree with roots
that grow out of the ground
grasping my hips
this daily parley with language
tender tortured true

de-cages my ribs
helps me breathe
or sob
to let go or receive
an aiming
to welcome
my light

like each night sky does the sun
this place is becoming
embracing alone
in a humble darkness

*I’ve since learned about Chris Sky. Thank you readers for the illumination.