Erasure

Winds to be reckoned with
do more than make waves;
all evidence of human existence
is entirely without-trace erased.
Reset is the playing field.
Wiped clean, the slate.

Denied are the attempts
to leave any more prints.
The only impressions saved
are those upon the heart.
Is your legacy of love
enough to advance
to the next
start?

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Flight

There is a certain trust

that is birthed, it seems,

when we let go of those things,

the ones,

we are not meant to be gripping,

for the wind cannot carry

that which is so willfully tethered.

If we simply allow ourselves

to float and let go,

all that is meant for us individually

will work itself out.

I am in no hurry

and my hands are empty,

the pace and weight required, I think,

to be light enough to be picked up

by the breeze.