wind through grass

she sat there like an old lioness
presiding over her wounds

and when she told of the children she’d abandoned
some fifty years before
who’d turned out alright
I saw tears well up behind her eyes

take away that prop I thought
and the whole citadel comes down

the whole citadel
that I am reminded
houses the soul

then I remembered my own mother
her own props and evasions
and a sudden gust rippled my conscience
like wind through grass

that night I dreamt of a white horse
standing in a burnt-out barn
stranded and irrecoverable

farm buildings 

the track led to outhouses
farm buildings

agricultural structures in
concrete and steel

barns
pens and silos

a corrugated shelter dripping
with rain

and silent uncomprehending
cattle

I might have left it there
but followed the track further

until I came upon earthworks
fortifications

barricades
put there to block my way

and still further I went

past the churches
and temples
and men shouting the resurrection

until I came to a tree
pale and slender
that wept from its side

and had no leaves upon it
but only thorns
that would not let me near

and I stood for a while
in contemplation

before heading back
to the farm buildings

and saw that those I had taken for cattle
were in fact people

and I joined them

and many were weeping