Trevor Toews Poems

The world is turning clockwise,
and the ticking doesn't stop.
The rigid hands, like marching bands,
move forward round the clock.
...

The unborn child,
As she waits in darkness for the coming dawn,
Wrapped in solitude's restricting bands,
Is nurtured by a life line, fed and cared for
...

How many of these gleaming, lifeless stones,
Will you erect and dedicate with hollow prayer?
Will the hordes of idols never be enough?
The mystic scenes that decorate your domes?
...

Have you ever been alone at night,
Waiting for first light,
And tried to will the earth to spin one minute faster?
It didn’t change its pace at all by what you said.
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The devil owns the question mark
He wields it like a sickle in the grass,
Hacks contentment, severs my resolve
With all the slicing questions that he asks.
...

And tomorrow when you wake up
Mind the space that you will take up
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Back when the mighty Prince of Peace
Could be wrapped up tight in swaddling clothes,
Back when His needs were the simplest comforts,
Only a mother in love bestows.
...

Made from scratch we say,
We like it better that way,
And I wonder
Where does the original scratch come from anyway?
...

You know how the branches of a tree
Split and split again,
Until these thousand passages terminate in leaves,
Not one of them the same.
...

Night has fallen,
Long since the woods were stilled
By the wind withdrawing to take another breath
Even the owl stops calling
...