in the wasteland left behind by
the battle that has raged for
the last week, and month, and year,
and an eternity before,
there is now, along the cracks on
the parched earth, a subtle movement,
even though there is no rain from above,
a resurgence from within,
a stirring deep beneath the cracked
and abused surface, which has seen
so much blood, pain and war.
maybe it was a fleeting notion or only
a passing word.
maybe it was a hope, a dream, a promise
that caressed gently back to awareness
the sleeping demon.
or perhaps it was something violent,
a disaster, a wound too deep to ignore,
and a burning emptiness
that finally touched and woke that
which has slept far too long.
(this poem is about the very personal and political experience of this new year, and the awakening of many things, both within me and in people i see around me... for me, on a personal level, this has been about womanhood, humanity, compassion and a great need to wake up and contribute.)