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my lover is the breeze
that breathes against my neck.

he is the sun that warms my shoulder
on crisp, autumnal days
he showers me in gold and heat
and bathes me in his rays.

my lover is as loyal
as the seasons of the year.

he returns with natural bounty
hiding treasures at my door.
he takes all that he wants from me
and leaves me filled with more.

·

he is the tide I rise and fall in.
he is the oxygen I drown in.

·

my lover is the sculptor
of my shape and silhouette.

he takes the pink from evening’s sky
and puts it on my cheek.

he takes the green from woodland’s pine
and sets it in my eye.

from the heavens he plucks freckles,
and decorates my chin,

and from the snow-capped mountains,
he carves and smoothes my skin

·

he is my craved sovereign
and I am his delight.
he is the moon that stares back at me
and illuminates my night.

·

though I have never seen him, thus,
and he has not seen me
all this does course between us
and we’ll forever be

the match that needs no flint
and the ember without air
white stone, igneous and glowing –
alive, immutable, and rare.

·

one cannot uncut the skin
sometimes you can’t start again.

one cannot recant the word
once it’s meaning has been heard.

one does not fall upwards.

so let it bleed
and let it break
flood the shores beneath it’s wake

and be done…

truth is the injury and healer.

‘cause wounds knit back though marked for good
and breaks rebuild with limp withstood
and waters recede and curb their wrath
and there is always an aftermath.

stand

and stand with weathered beauty
for all that you’ve survived.

stand

and stand with trial’s bounty
and the joy of life, revived.

here come the arrows
here come the darts
here come the wounds
to find their fated marks

here come the blows
here comes the weight
here comes the fear
to try and dissipate

the strength you are
the power you store
the vigor you hold
forevermore

and they shall not win –
they’ll not prevail –
don’t gaze at the hoist
of their treacherous sail

for shields are made
and armor is worn
to thicken the skin
and sturdy the form

you’ve been made true
you’re fortified with toil
you’re embalmed in word
and anointed with oil

and all the spears and tears and the endurance of ugly years
will not break you today,

not under me –
not thus gloved –
for I shelter in metal
my heart and beloved.

some would argue
i should have turned around
at the first drop
that hit my cheek

some would say
that the flashes in the distance –
hazard whites on darkening blues –

were my warning

to stay home,
go back in,
keep under glass.

i don’t know if it was the addictive little crunch of gravel beneath my feet
that kept me going

i don’t know if it was the cry of the bawling windmill –
siren song in metal spires –
that propelled me on

i don’t know if it was the thunder
that rolled above
like a harmony to the hunger inside me

but i just kept on walking.

i walked into a storm and found the wind to be at my back

i walked into the rain and found it to be cleansing

i walked over wet stone and found

it forgave my missteps

and erased my wrong footings

and stayed the hopeful emissary to my every next step.

∴

dress me in dark waters
hold me in the deep
in secret, sweet, and scented places
cage me in your keep

there I dance
with weightless grace
veiled and free
in endless space

place your hand upon my back
and brace my fervent spin
let me bend, drawn out, and down,
and raise me up, again

drive my feet
and set my pace
guide my hands
and lift my face

persuade me
invade me
you’ve carefully handmade me
induce me
seduce me
electrify, conduce me

lead –

or let me see –
the dance
that you would dance

if you could dance through me.

∴

what i really want to say is:
i can’t remember

i can’t remember what it was like to feel safe
i can’t remember what it was like to know the future

i can’t remember what it was like to look at something i made and say
it’s enough

i can’t remember what it’s like to feel weightless in love
or weightless in me

i can’t remember what it feels like
to know you’ve got me

i can’t remember air without gravity

i can’t remember rain on me

it’s always safely kept behind glass –

or am i the one kept behind glass?

i can’t remember
courage

i can’t remember
what i did wrong
what i did right
what i wanted to have done
right or wrong
anyway

but i saw a flash
like reflected light

and then i knew

briefly

that everything i can’t recall

once

was

and still is
somewhere

in a heart
whose mind
has simply forgot
how to let it be.

we pass over hearts
like magic wands,
like wayward darts.

there is ache when we fly
in search of nest
there is ache when we try
to bide in empty rest

we pass into depths
in, through the eye
out, by the breath

there is ache when we roam
free of destination
there is ache when confined
and held in consternation

we pass into days
forgetting years
hid in haze

there is a memory
pushed far back and down
of a love – – –

was it love?
is it still?

there is ache from what I can’t recall
and fear that i might lose it all

again

and

again

and

again.

·

I’m pretty sure we fall in love thinking that it will be the end of hurt.

·

But love itself is a testament to survival WITH hurt.

It is the product of pain given

and pain received,

and the perseverance of kindness between.

·

It is the bond that holds in spite of itself.

·

I shall not begrudge the hurts I’ve felt

I’ll beg forgiveness for those I’ve issued.

They were all done

with the intent of loving

and being loved

in return.

·