Awen’s footprint

i am a blade of grass
bent into muddied waters;
i am gravel displaced
by the pressure of loss;
i am glass become sand
become glass again:
the injunction of a clear singer,
the wisdom of the sea.


Follow me uphill;
roll aside
the Sarsen stone set
over my
soul, unearthing
the well of stale
passion that
expires breath-
wise under damp
breasts and dry heat.
Find me a new
shrine to an old
desperation buried in clouds
of molded hope, somewhere
deep and high where i
can claw out and
lay down with pride
the four bloodied
chambers of this broken