“You were really beautiful, thank you”- Nick Cave

The road unwound like
a long-held breath,
its rhythm soft as
the heartbeat of stone.

She leaves the earth of
Mesas behind, red dust
curling in the rearview,
the bones of
old places.

The sky is wide enough
for her grief tonight,
stretching taut,
bruised with stars,
a canvas for memories
she cannot bury.

She drives east, a hymn
to the unbroken road.
Her body a map,
etched in ink, scar,
and story, a nurse’s hands,
a wanderer’s soul.

But grief does not shake;
it settles, heavy
as a stone,
silent as the wind.

The sky stretches endless,
its wounds glowing
faint in the
morning light.

She breathes it in,
the ache, the wonder,
the endless gathering
of what is lost
and what remains.

She wonders if she
could reach up,
pluck her sorrow
from the heavens
and hold it like
a wildflower,
its petals torn
but still fragrant,
resting on graves.

to something,
she can’t
yet
name.

© Si Matta

They were twins split
apart by lighting and
bad fathers. With each sound
laughter forgot its
Namesake. The life of
Fire.

Tender now stories held
in bad bones, marrow evaporates
from the thirst of light
consumed. The dry mouth
of aging.

Lost form and skin that feels
like dust. They learn to speak
On death beds, the only safety
She knew.

“Go outside, my child,
Before you forget your name.”

© Si Matta

“There’s a little black spot on the sun today..”- The Police

There was a time
when the clanking
of bones rattled
this old house.

Now dust collects,
like a yearning
for mars.

Given to
hysteria.

There is a mad glow
in the sky
tonight.

That’s my
soul up
there.

© Si Matta

If it should happen you wake up and Armageddon has come, lie still.
― William Edgar Stafford

Last night I
saw the
moon
slip
in
and out
of golden light.

A flame burnt
ember of
gas
exploding
in my eyes.

Watching the end
of the world
no longer
feels
so
dramatic.

© Si Matta

doves whispering/ as they rest their wings/ in the rafters your silent sanctuary
― Kate Mullane Robertson

A song waning through old trees,
The length of eternity in her eyes,
Dreaming the world into existence.

We sat with broken wings,
Licking our wounds,
And watching the ancient sun rise.

We sat with mending hearts,
Finding strength in the wind,
And learning to fly again.

In dream-
The uterus of the universe
Unfolds its flower to us.

Nimble and scarred,
We drink from its nectar,
And place our hearts here.

Moments are where we hide,
Where we grow,
Where we die,
And where we learn to live.

The shadows of limbs,
Broken and dropping the leaves of fall
Drip on the peripheral landscapes of our inner worlds.

A sanctuary of rebirth.

© Si Matta

“behind the mask of ice that people wear, there beats a heart of fire.”
— Paulo Coelho

He peels the bark
slowly from around
the knots.

And dreams of the all
the eyes that will
peer through.

Shape shifted
and dreaming.

The dance continues.

© Si Matta

Some birds are not meant to be caged, that’s all.- Stephen King

The birds whispered my name,
As I fidgeted on a cold chair,
Learning of a god dressed in thorns.

As they talked in righteous dictation,
I would pull thorny brambles from dirty hands-
Finding god in the splinters.

I remember how the rain tasted-
Dry in safe beds made from synthetic fibers.

Yet I could hear the birds whisper my name,
Telling me stories,

We forgot to tell ourselves.

© Si Matta

Each of us is born with a box of matches inside us but we can’t strike them all by ourselves― Laura Esquivel

I use to dream,
but my well
has ran dry.

Like cottonmouth.

I often cough
on words and
pass the torch.

A flame.

© Si Matta

Never lost/ Fading slowly to Silence/ By infinite degrees”
― Ashim Shanker

The sinew of
the moment led
us to this
leather of silence.

Sometimes I forget
your name, but remember
the taste.

A distant drum-

Your heart.

© Si Matta

“His eyes were that colour you can’t see in the rainbow. Indigo.”
― Rainbow Rowell

I remember turquoise,
it tasted blue
in my mouth

as he shoved
it down my
throat.

He gushed in
my hands, unaware
of the water

I held.

© Si Matta