Serendipity, 

Skin pales inside old, unkempt buildings.
Washing clothes by hand, wringing wet clothes onto make-shift clothes lines.
Sleepy hands chafe, swell at the bent knuckles.

Crinkled paper, ripped from its binding, lay on the floor.
Emaciated barrel of an empty pen to no avail.
Heavy interior thoughts
no one will see,
and moments of truth
blush by mis-match memory,
ears turn crimson red to.


Eyes bear witness, long edgy nights lying awake, restless.
Supine on rough metal beds,
waiting for the dawn’s reprieve.
First hint of glimmer to the horizon,
speculating of what becomes of ache and of sorrow.

Rumination lapping, then steadying,
by love and by surety
of familiar old things left behind;
deep, deep soul - gutting.
Blood- letting slowly the grace.
Behold, the well -
where everything resonated fate,
and dances into eternity.