I Listen to the Voice of Limbs

Where is peace in this cigarette world

of light a bomb, and smoke a nation?

Fingers doom scroll until minds go blind,

and eyes flicker as apocalyptic night lights.

I often find myself between hell and moonlight.

Honesty stalks me with my own addiction

to the thing in my hand that I try to deny

is the cheerleader of chaos.

Like an ink pen hungry for confession

I journal pain, exclaim anger, and cry

until pages are smudges even I can’t read.

I’m not a tree, but I’m a daughter of earth.

I’ve watched leaves dance, green grow brighter

when lashed by wind and assaulted by rain,

so the forest is where I run when humans

strip the flesh from my smile.

In the shade of an oak’s generosity, the potpourri of pine

I am quiet, hold every why inside my chest, and let

wonder dance through my spirit, open my brokenness 

to joy and listen to the voice of limbs. 

In the calm of my own heartbeat, I feel my ancestors,

human, and woody roots, sing light still comes

when you’ve burnt every candle. 

©Susie Clevenger 2025

What's Going On? ~ Yearning For Peace