"Without an Answer" and "Journal and Sky"

Without An Answer

I sensed the strange windless drifts before a storm,
bereft of an answer to why my life was almost taken.
Her high woman's voice in the lull, a support of
supreme intensity, there was a darkening, a blue
bruise of a sky, an air of the past in the way the
dusk lifted.  Because she was telling me
precisely how I had to survive, watching the
faces, leaning back against the years.
How I escaped is the question in the palm
that passes, asking for prayers for the injured.
I have sometimes been wise, she was wiser
still, speaking in ancient Aramaic, a song of
forests.

Journal With Sky

Sky, the road and trunks around the bend.  A prison, a skylark.
Snow from yesterdays.  Melts on a warm February day.   Clouds
spell the names of those who have died.  We were caught
in a whirlwind of loss, we were caught in a whirlwind of bliss, we
remembered Ezekiel, and the visions of stark warning.
A prison, a handful of sparrows flying while I drink a
cup of coffee at the cafe.
Who has forgotten?  Who has spoken to a youth who
will save a life?