The Wild Woman In You

The Wild Woman in you

learned to dance on glow-eyed coals

when needed and felt all the burning

but never complained.

The Wild Woman in me

tries on your dancing shoes and understands

fiercely all manner of your pain.

Someday we might ease each other

through the brimstone, singing our songs,

our Wild Woman hymns of burnt offerings

surging through our chests and

moving us along, 

honing our aim 

and thanking the flames.

J. Pratt-Walter, © 2019

TreeSong poetry workshop

Overdose

       In this land

we are starving

for peace

In this land

we eat fear

hate

violence

oppression

Please

America

let this banquet

end

Clear the table

of gluttony

and hate

      Let this overdose

of injustice

die

        J. Pratt-Walter, (c) 2019
      

Last Waltz

How my body 

wants to waltz!

Now, when the wild lupin lifts

its blue triumph over the tipsy

orchard grass,

now as the tiger lilies flex their

orange arms.

Now, as cherry blossoms

feather their way to the ground,

hinting of the lips of fruit

almost too rich to bear,

let us waltz this one warm river away from any clock,

hands so alive, feet

haunting the floor with yearning

for more –

one last sunset time before the metallic

broken bell of parting.

J. Pratt-Walter, (c)2019