Misplacements
Something stolen
Not difficult to define
Falling symbols
Clanging like a warning bell
An ending locked
Into a darker beginning
We tipped over that day
Falling into each other
Eyes blinded
By pyroclastic clouds
Of displaced faith
Everything changed
Nothing was spared
Concrete narratives shattered
Became dust
Now we breathe them in
Until we choke
Shaken to our very foundations
We stand on our resolve
In an emptier space than we remember
Always wary
Always watched
Something stolen, never to return.
©2018
Runaway American Dream 
Nice. I was starting to wonder what happened to the poet laureate (but one) of NJ.
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I’m pretty sure there are a few hundred poets standing between me and the Boss.
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But you’re Australian! 😂
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Wow, very cool that you’re doing so much poetry! This is interesting, like a rebirth into something not so friendly. Peace is present somewhere 🙂 Sending you and your Beloved a lot of blessings. Thanks for visiting my blog, so lovely to reconnect with you. Debbie
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Thank you, Debbie. And with you.
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