Poems by Deborah Kennedy
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First Words
by Deborah Kennedy
Deborah lives in the Guadalupe watershed in the South Bay area of California. She often hikes in an urban riparian corridor where she spots osprey, hawks and herons. In the evening she watches for moon bows, earthshine and other modern miracles.
The first words spoken by humans
echoed the sounds of that seething world
coyote’s sad songs of lust and blood
wind slipping through last year’s grass
the herd’s hooves beating against parched ground
the crack and spit of wood in the fire
thunder’s rolling drumbeat and staccato rhythms
the shock of rain against each leaf.
Our tongues found the form and rhythm
singing songs by a swinging cradle
to tell tales in flickering firelight of a
breathing world, pressed hard against the dark.
First published in First Literary Review-East.
© Deborah Kennedy
Unseen
by Deborah Kennedy
White mist low
in the valley, a
raindrop, the whisper
of Western Hemlocks.
The air you are
breathing.
The ocean’s
deepest current
the frozen lake’s
quiet bed, your
still heart. The water
you are drinking.
The nerves of
your spine, roots
of your teeth, your
brain’s eager
flux. The apple
you are biting.
Unmoving, icy
eyes. All that
is unseen, unfelt
abused and ruined.
The air you are
breathing.
© Deborah Kennedy