Oath Oar

All I came to do- Hear tenderly, and know we are one,
Behind the rise and the set of the sun.
We are subsumed in this finite skin,
As less than what we are, abbreviations, and lies,
Hampering and laying the material divide.
Where love reigns, disinterested yet alive.

Nineteen, copyright ©2017 Aria Ligi The Australian Times

Mourning Flies

Some held a mass at her grave.
Petals strewn on the mild lave.
Granite-rose a gray façade,
Interred within where she strode.
A feast of inclusion frescoes on the base relief.
Some held sprays dabbing eyes,
Faux fantasies & sorrowful byes.
Some held her in and prayed for their grief,
Clutching filthsome divots-
Clumps of glass moldered tears wandering ash.
Witticisms escaping lips- smiles twisted,
A dissonance consigned to the riddle.
Her desertion – her ranging from them all,
The self- flying free from her angry vexing pall.

Nineteen, copyright ©2017 Aria Ligi The Australian Times