Not exactly that swan
lifting white grace
to the heavens
Nope
but thud and tug and ping
and whipping thud again
taking flight out across the highway
in my rear-view
Scuttled dust  
fiberglass flattened
by the truck behind
White-knuckling wheel while
       mentally    compute
split-second sounds and feels for damage...

I guess?
everything's
okay...?

First it was that blowout
Then one by one
the hubcaps lost their grips, their minds
and went their ways
to join the trash
of butts and chunks of mattress
fast-food wrappers, road-****
by the guardrail
of another day

Most recent--
Antenna disconnect
Fixed with tape 'cause
Gotta have that music
heat, AC, tires, breaks
Ya know-- important things
like that steady humming engine

Destined to be--
buckboard to the beach or heaven
whichever's first
by the time its twenty
Much nearer than I'd care to say
Ode to Car and Driver
who get there--

in all good hope, together

             :)

I scream
But a world of deaf can not hear
A wail so loud piercing the night
Excruciating pain tearing at my heart
But a world of deaf can not hear
I bleed
But a world of blinds can not see
Crimson red, staining the bedsheets
Blood spattered across the streets
But a world of blinds can not see
I suffer
I’m battered and withered
But they choose not to see
They choose not to hear
My bleeding agony and silent screams
My bruised body and burning tears
I’m hurting
But a heartless world can not feel.

Go into the woods
and tell your story
to the trees.
They are wise
standing in their folds of silence
among white crystals of rock
and dying limbs.
And they have time.
Time for the swaying of leaves,
the floating down,
the dust.
They have time for gathering
and holding the earth about their feet.
Do this.
It is something I have learned.
How they will bend down to you
softly.
They will bend down to you
and listen.

Laura Foley, from Poetry of Presence An Anthology of Mindfulness Poems