The Superhero


Even her loose ends are frayed.



messy –


She’s finally discarded the cape

that gave her missions impetus,

along with her illusions

of  being able to save anyone but herself.

She walks with a limp,

but the scars scab over

now that they are allowed air.

Her gait,

like the end of her rope,

is damaged –

but a new authenticity lends

dignity to torn edges,

beauty to fragmented spirit.

She owns not just her strengths

but her brokenness;

its tangles are a net

spread over troubles seas,

catching unexpected graces

too numerous and astounding to be named or counted.

Chaos has lent her courage,

counted her among the genuine,

labelled her approachable,

and that makes her

a Superhero.

Ties That Bind

sunset rope

When loose ends don’t meet

and dreams fray,

life unravels.

Slip knots slip

and coils uncoil

because living is not linear;

it can’t be neatly hung

from pillar to post.

Even tying the knot

is no guarantee,

for when hearts shrink,

lassoes lengthen.

But here’s the twist –

once discover the end of your rope,

and you will find

a no-strings-attached

place to hang your heart;

these are the

Ties that Bind.

In Knots

My words were draped upon firm postings;

Truth bore them well, so I thought.

They were to be the line  anchoring our thoughts together.

But sounds rebelled, and snarled at a sticking place –

Communication, that rare sighting,

rather than coiling heart to heart,

 tied itself up in knots.

Loops as holding hangers gnarled, and wove

a meaning unintended.

Now whose end is whose?

Where do I begin and you end?

Who is left holding the frayed edge,

and who is the dangling participle?

If you cannot catch my drift

I will float away,

un-anchored and un-caught,

my heart unheard,

in knots.