You reach out to me
with claws…
those hooked talons
that once looked like home.
The fingers of my soul
still trace over and over
the road-map of scars
your “love” left
on my heart
…still flinching
at the ones
yet unhealed…
straining at the stitches
of grace and
tentative hope…
trying not to
reopen the wounds.
Deep in my soul hums
the song of night creatures…
How I had missed
their singing…
After so many years
of pain
of fear
I began to believe
this horrible
breath-holding silence
was all I would have…
their voices silenced
by a predator.
I am not sure when
they began to sing again…
tentative notes of hope
springing forth…
now a near-constant
song of joy…
unafraid and alive
at last.
There is a wistfulness
on the air
and the trees are dancing
to a symphony
…unheard…
yet I feel the notes
thrum through my soul
and settle on my skin
like a lover’s touch
inviting me to dance…
to take his hand
and trust…
so now I dance…
one with clouds
with treetops
with birdsong
and falling stars.
I dance to the symphony
I now call
freedom.
The dying light
all golden
turning trees
into shadows
wraps me in
a solmnenty
and I feel the weight
of the day
dropping down.
I feel the ripples
through my heart
pebbles in a pond
of memory
and I do not escape
unscathed.
The birds are out today
singing to the sun
and darting on the wind.
I can see the leaves dance,
though I cannot hear the
song of the wind…
It must be a gentle song –
a love song – whispered
instead of sung…
The softest of kisses
A lover’s carress.
I don’t know what the day
will bring… but for now..
Peace.
The light of January
caresses my skin
warming me –
despite the bite
of the wind…
There is a hope in my heart
I hardly know how to navigate.
A loss I feel
but do not kneel to…
I will not be cowed
by grief –
will not bow to it…
I will, instead,
hold fast to the hope
brought by January sunlight…
a newness in the day
unshackled by old regrets…
untainted by this
old grief.
Alive.
Alone, my thoughts
drift to you…
awakened by love…
mind awash in hope.
Scared , but not defeated…
cold fingers of doubt cannot
overturn this joy…
this longing to be free…
thoughts of you careen… a
Juxtaposition of peace
and fear. Hope and longing.
never have I been so
alive and unafraid…
songs from the wind
invading my mind… give me
elusive joy…. surcease..
worry melting like snow..
intimacy beckons, and I answer the
call…hesitant…then full of a
zeal I did not know I could possess..
I shout into the wind
the full volume of my pain
and listen for the answer
echoing back at me in silence…
my hands fisted at my side,
my soul reaching for hope.
Even on the most hope-
less days, the night wind
comforts, loves, caresses my side
and gently lifts my pain
offering me peace, silence
and hints at the answer
I have been searching for…answers
to my desperation…this subtle hope
sings to me in this silence,
accompanied by the whispering wind…
the balm to my soul’s pain..
wind’s fingers tracing the inside
of my open collar, along the side
of my neck. What if the answer
to happiness, is embracing the pain?
Could that be our hope?
Pain danced away in the wind,
twirling in the dark silence?
Slowly the raging cacophony falls silent
and peace settles gently inside.
My mind still on the wind’s
Embrace, no longer looking for an answer
just awash in that elusive hope…
for the moment, a reprieve from pain.
I look into the eyes of pain
reflected in my mirror… silence
all around me… hope
slowly growing deep inside.
Questions forgotten, unanswered
for the moment, healed by the wind.
Despite the pain always inside
Despite the silence, years with no answer
I will forever find hope, waiting on the wind.
December has a
Sense of urgency…
Days flowing too fast
And I can’t find my footing…
Stumbling over these rocks
Of grief,
And falling down hard –
Body battered
Soul crying out for help
To an empty room
The wall’s silence
Screaming back at me…
Needles of that empty echo
Piercing my heart….
What is one more wound?
Watching the rain
Stream past the balcony
Dripping from
Lampposts
Below me…
I feel the absence
Of you
And I embrace
This peace..
No slamming doors
Or breaking dishes…
No raised voices
Or near *constant* weight
Of disappointment
…never enough…
…always too much…
I feel another wound
Stitched closed
By glimmering
Threads of rain
Under a cold
Gray sky
Another layer of fear
Washed away in the storm.
captivatingbitter 