Mockingbird in the Weeds

Image: Created by Grok

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Mockingbird in the Weeds

Breath works to bring the cells home
Morning spots loom and roam
He was willing to seek derangement
Before he got his eye put out

Breath heaves in the open air
Wine stained shirts open there
On the same planet he felt
Would use his best words

Breath lost its heft drifting
His fingers were still sifting
Maybe he finally smelled
His own stench for a second

Breath gained on the heart
Spiking trenches for airy arts
But he stayed in the muck
Preferring filth to joy

Breath day trips the wing
Blind bat in cave does sing
Stirring the stillness into dust
Waiting for the plant to yield

Breath like a mockingbird in the weeds
Speeds the lungs to deliver its seeds
He spun in a circle of madness
Writing his doggerel of death and lust

Breath slow and quiet became my guide
My light turned on the shore of love not pride
I make my way as I try to remain humble
Banishing war and hate to tranquility