The sun eclipsed above my head
it turned dark with rings of red
and as the moon crossed sailed and sled
the earth below burnt up and bled.

Bled tears of ire and tears that wed
tears of dire and tears of dread.

The sun eclipsed above my head
when I laid alone in bed
and as I watched the past go by
what came and went and lived and died
I looked inside then rose and cried
I saw new hope spark up with pride
it flew to me on wings of doves
and brought new breeze of joy and love.
©Yakira Shimoni Fulks Art and Poetry
June 12, 2021 | OC, California

That Was Then | Crumbling Corona