11.8.2010

I keep wanting to retell the story
to capture the moments leading up to the first kiss:
The broken glass, the gentle rain, the train whistle
--and the hints of spring
the feel of your corduroy jacket on my fingertips
as I lace my hand through the crook of your arm and ask, "is this all right?"

It is more than all right.

I keep wanting to relive the dance
in kitchen of the rented cottage on the lake.
Freeing me from fears and
quietly scribbling freedom across the inside of my wrist
so that I can remember what it is like to choose
at any given moment, what it is I desire--and then live it.
and across the waves I say, "I really like you."

I more than like you.

I keep wanting to replay the song
our voices mingling through the air
--alighting a room of people who shared the moment
the story; the dance
watching me, watching you. with eyes that say:
Yes, I too, more than like you.

7.3.2010

For most of my life,
I have let Fear define me.

Now: it is my fearlessness,
my freedom,
and my faith
in Love.

For that, I am grateful

4.3.10

And the rains came

heavy in a downpour washing clean

the darkness: the anger and pain

and she looked into the fierce wind

smiling--acknowledging the power

that was always outside and yet, within

satisfaction and empathy took the reigns

steering along a rough and ragged path

to find out that what is--

is what has always been

but she never saw it before

and she laughed, tears streaming down her face

dropping into the soil, feeding the hungry Earth

Watching Jets on a Sunday Afternoon

One of these days I will just decide to be unafraid. 

I will buy a ticket, shake hands with the pilot

And find a window seat in Row J. 

And it will go like that: in a quiet resolve. 

The heat no longer brazen in my chest; 

The scattered and hurried thoughts absent. 

In its place will be a comfort, 

A knowledge that I beat the fear of death 

And conquered every bit of darkness 

That creeps under my skin. I will be only Light. 

And Light will take me anywhere I wish to go.

...

In the space between

where you end

and I begin

lies possibility.

Flesh and Love

flesh and love

remind the skin

what wonders it once held

lines across hips

freckles across lips

and the phantom flickers

that trigger the senses to recall

a foot to the rib or

an elbow cascading across 

a taut belly 

where flesh and love

were one