Flight of Weakness

Out of the ashes
weakness rises,
a bird unfettered
feathers flying,
the blue sky tips her hat/
she soars the currents,
no preening power postures,
serving as imposters,
weakness wills against herself
and wins,
instead,
strength's favour
as she grins,
and bears the wind,
she flies against,
and in,
and swoops and swirls
though few can see,
she pecks a paradox in me,
reveals her morning song
of weak but strong,
trills last but first,
the meek inherit Earth,
the born perform rebirth,
she flies: the face of the absurd,
a most peculiar kind of bird.

Haiku in the Clouds.

Sky strides in my face
evolutionary thought:
who needs a rainbow?

On Hold

In your grasp,
Fingers clasp
A ring round wrist,
Thumb prints nestle,
Digits wrestle into
Flesh and skin,
Limb and bones,
Held and honed
Richly owned.

When this grip,
Began to slip:
With sweat-filled palms,
Veins at risk,
Your holy hold
Refused to twist,
Stuck with this son,
Till he caught on...