Against the Grain

Nunc Dimittis, Carpe Noctem

Image by Morteza Ghanbari

Broken Branches Bleed - H. R. Sinclair

The roots run deep
and the branches grow far
but all are long separated.
Those who planted the seed?
Long forgotten.
Those who grow now?
Unable to remember.

Place your hand upon the bark
and feel the arc of lineage,
feel the antiquity of love,
hate, triumph, failure,
pain and suffering and all
the same.

See it’s leaves
some charred
some burnt
some not
some scarred from
flickering sparks
branch to branch
the damage is done.

Some grow nevertheless
no lookbacks
no care for care
just reaching for the light,
a gap in the canopy,
growing for the sake
of growing some more.

See the Grand Mother,
strong and fragile
in pain and bearing pain
holding on with
relief in reminiscence
of the Grand Father
she felt to take away.

See the Mother
strong and brave
supporting its growing branches
no matter its own foundation
hoping for hope,
fighting for sustenance
for others than itself.

See the Daughter
striving for something
unknown to the roots
unknown to the rings of history
engraved in the bole,
but growing nonetheless.

See the tree,
origin too far down to see
future to vague to know;
a chance to shade anothers
or fall a stump
just like the others.

© H.R. Sinclair, 2025 - Originally published in Know Thyself, Heal Thyself

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Photo taken by Jozef Cain

Selene - Jozef Cain

the days drone like a blackfly
pest of my heart: the sun’s eye;
who keeps me running this rat race
with a red number carved in my chest;
watching with a judgmental face
burning with a passionate jest.

yet, a dim-yellow whispers hopeful plea
into my deaf ears, every damned eve,
but i’m too damned tired to hear her offering;
reprieve under this damned scorching
heat; this hellscape where men hate,
women laugh; and my fate
feels numb, null, and void;
and my soul is unemployed. 

though when dusk draws her curves
within the night sky, i'm met with chef d'oeuvre
of star-spangled mystery;
while selene whispers me into calm reverie.

she purifies that sweltering judge of day, 
and i'm clean for a moment; so, i pray.

© Jozef Cain, 2025 

Image by Mahdi Bafande

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