Two poems

Images flicker and fade
Not enough awe or simplicity
To tempt me
To wonder about it in words
That feel like stones
In my mouth
Or muddy ash
It is all I can do to spit them out
Without giving them voice
And the images
Breeze gently away into
Oblivion ‘s mundane memory


After the battle
Mundane patterns
Ordinary routines
Return
Hiding more subtle struggles
And wondering
Where life goes
Dull
Battle sharpens the senses
Strips away the unnecessary
Now to sharpen ordinary life
With passion and hope
Ah! This in between is preparation