minor miracles

a minor miracle happens
when you hear the sunrise
barging into your life and life awakens
in your eyes, like an odd unrequited lover
hunting and haunting your cherished and chaste memories, tormenting and
stalking your mind with a thousand flesh wounds,
now purpling thick scabs
for which you bear no responsibility
you make decisions throughout the day
and major adjustments:
which channel do you watch
if you are one of the lucky unlost in upper Manhattan
for the third day in a row, and the dreams
you had are not nearly as bad as the mugger you
run into saying 'your money or your life'
but you have not money
and you remember when the life you dreamed
was surrounded by white picket fences, trailing
English Ivy on your castle by the sea, lilacs spread
their scent unashamedly,
blue skies were not yet born,
and only a dog was
barking through
all your loneliness, you had a vision then,
you were invincible and magnificent
the drama unfolding
in your heart had not yet seared the truth into
you:   lies!  lies!  lies!
you scream and shout into the horizon, pound your
fists into the night, you'd rather sleep sleep sleep
while the crows are pecking out your eyes.

the world was yours this morning.