Doppelgänger

I don't think mine is evil, but she sure gets around. People have been telling me for years that they've seen her. Perhaps she is some aspect of myself that I abandoned. Maybe one day we'll meet. I'd like that.

Flying Moon

How fast the moon flies
Through the patchy clouds tonight
Ahead of the rain.

Wrong thing to say

Whose words were those that came out of my mouth?

January

Even the moon's shadow looks cold.

Resolution

This year, I will bring something new into my world.

(Thank you, Robert Moss, for the inspiration.)

Day 1

Blackeye peas, turnip greens, and then, the laundry. This year, small steps. No big promises. One day at a time.

Fall

The distance from the top
Of the ladder
To the flat rock
In the path
Is proportional
To the pain.

I imagine the arc
Made by the top
Of my head
And the ground,
As in those too brief seconds
I flew earthwards.

There was no thinking:
It just happened,
And was over.

Lying there
On my back
In pain
Grateful
I could move my limbs,
I went over each inch
Of my body, asking,
"Are you okay?"

My head complained,
But missed the rock
By an inch or two.

I could crawl.
Later I could stand, walk,
But not without constant pain.

Pain, the not-so-gentle messenger
That we are earth-bound, gravity-lovers,
That no matter how much our spirits soar,
We cannot fly.

Ellen B. Rust
4/5/11