Moment Before Rest

Silence

wrapped its cloak

around my throat

and squeezed

My heart beat furiously

thoughts stampeded

down the well

falling …

falling …

falling …

Landing softly

in shallow water

I rested in cool shadow

‘til my mind calmed

and the darkness

soothed my soul

into sleep

In the morning

I became whole

again

and crawled out.

--Sasha Wolfe

The Importance of Green

I wore the green

of spring

I wore the green 

to give

I wore the green 

on days I thought

I could never sing

I walked the green 

in spring

I walked the green

to think

I walked the green

to let its life

into my heart … sink

I felt the green

of life

Release pain and stress 

and strife

It filled my mind and soul 

with fire 

creative passion inspired.

-- Sasha Wolfe

Microburst

The downdraft slams the ground

blasting wind down the mountainside

ripping words from my soul 

Phrases slap against my mind

like my hair whipping

against my face

until my eyes fill with tears

It stings 

vision blurs

and I’m blind to all else

The gusts die down

the moment passes

I am left gasping and staring

at the debris

strewn across the page

Slowly I pick myself up

gather my thoughts

sort through 

the scattering of words

A poem is released.

--Sasha Wolfe

Tidal Wave

This is what it’s like when a poem comes to me…

Tidal Wave

Something within opens wide 

and I am slammed

words and passion

pour into my soul

with tidal-wave force

I can’t catch my breath

I have to get it down

have to release the words

that are churning inside

that threaten to explode

But my hand  

can’t move fast enough

the pen skips

I struggle to get

the words on the page

My mind is drowning

I write quickly

to channel this flood

before the waters recede

before it abandons me

Suddenly it’s over

leaving me 

gasping for breath

on the drying shore

spent, but relieved

I relax in the sun

excited I’ve been given

another poem.

    ---Sasha Wolfe ‘16

There’s an immense in-pouring that needs to immediately be released. There’s a definite feeling of being a channel. The words pour in and through me.

In Warm Sunlight

Sun’s rays filtering 

through trees

on a chilled

frosty morning

Golden light reflecting

on still-wet leaves

creates spots of

brightness and shadow

Slow footsteps  

Shuffle softly

among the fallen

reds, yellows, browns

In a hunched-over

position

I search the ground

for the right shot.

--Sasha Wolfe