My past
unrolls, unwinds, unfurls
a river, field, & over there
the church chimes six;
the horses twitch their tails
flies, always the flies
it’s sunset & the trees
flame fire.
We chose to go
while others stayed
a paradise, a world
conceived
in nature’s cradle:
the foal’s peer
‘neath their mother’s flank
a velvet nose, a snort:
their huge eyes regard
a world washed new
each night.
Twilight & the frog’s chorus
emanates from reeds
where earlier dragon fly
hovered: overhead a buzzard
& owl opens sleepy eyes
the night becomes his garden.
My past
unwinds, unrolls, unfurls
people that I loved
have crossed that
silent bridge
but I’m still bound
my faith tied with
unseen threads
to this land:
this specific place
shimmering under
pink moon’s siren song
consumed, converted
thrown away
till Zion comes.
Victoria Mosley 
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