(Trish Jean)

It’s dark
down here
in Hades.

Some days all
the day endures
is holding on as the
flood of absence
tugs at my feet
trying to topple me and
longing swells too,
it unhinges my heart.

Is there a
from the
half life
half light
half truth
it doesn’t matter
when you’re nearly all that does.

And what will be edifying?
To bat at the gloom
and grasp the rivers of light?
for your healing
of self fulfilled prophecy
or find a way to pour love in,
to plant the sorted seeds?

How does one send light?
Could an envelope contain it,
crafted from the breath of life,
be carried by Charon
for a fee of fear
or resoluteness?
Or is it best posted
by the oracle,
should he seek me there?

Lack of faith is streaked
by the very tears that result from it.
Just moments,
that run across its facade,
the easy path of capitulation.
Faith then erodes. No.
By its nature it rebounds.

Will you not
yoke the beasts to carry you?
Choke the lion?
Or fly on waxed wings?
Shoot the arrow
for a swiftness of love
not death though
I wait here below.
Or better yet,
don’t let it be your irony,
simply love.

Let there be loosed
a thousand arrows
for us now that we are born.
Source for me a useable prediction
whose words I can melt into
a language of love
that can permeate
the barriers and light the way.


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