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.
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.
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.
I sat tonight
Reading Frost
By the dim light
The taste of cranberry
Across my tongue
As I sipped my drink.
The cold November wind
Biting my neck and
Blowing my hair
In my face.
The soaring voice
Of a violin in my ears…
In this moment…
Content…
To let my spirit
Soar and plummet
With the notes,
Sad when the music fades…
Buoyed again
When mesmerized by
The dance of the trees…
The wind their
Loving partner.
For one so at home in the dark,
I often awake to find myself tormented…
plagued, harried
Utterly broken and
so. very. afraid.
Why is it so easy to breathe
At night, sitting alone in the dark
And in the early morning hours
Every breath is a
Ragged gasp…
Fighting for air…?
Why, when I should feel uneasy
Sitting in the night air
Listening to the wind
And the sounds from the city
Do I feel fearless?
Peaceful?
Yet in the breaking daylight
Peace gives way to
Turmoil…and
So much pain…
Every dark thought
Is a blade across my heart
Every shortcoming
A curse on my soul
And every tear shed
Feels like a shameful thing
Crying alone over coffee
Hating myself with a loathing
Beyond anything i have ever felt
For anyone else.
I tried to read
The greats tonight
Leonard, Angelou,
Poe, Frost…
But it is my own voice
Too loud in my ear
That sets me
Quivering –
With loss, pain,
With fear remembered
And love…lost…
I tried to smile
Around this ache in my chest,
but each one
Shattered
Hurting my face.
The clouds are moving
Too fast tonight
Ghosts against
A black sky…
And the breeze
Doesn’t invite
Doesn’t caress…
Instead… alienates.
There is a wrongness
And I feel
Cornered
Not romanced –
Caged…silenced…
Grief-choked.
No song tonight
On the symphony
Of wind
Notes all soured
By this aching
…this pain…
This ground under
Boot-heel feeling
…abandoned…
Alone in the dark.
captivatingbitter 