I write him in my sentences,
I write him in my diary.
I print him on pages,
I print him on stories.
I carve him on stones,
I carve him in designs.
I sketch him in my moans,
I sketch him in my mind.
I etch him in tattoo,
I etch him on woods.
I sculpt him in statues,
I sculpt him into the man he stood.
I inscribe him on ripples,
I inscribe him on the swirl of my wine.
I draw him in circles,
I just can draw the line.
I have watched mothers lose
their children, and children lose their mothers. I am tied
by my toes to a loop
which can be seen in cafes and morgues -
the breast-feeding, the burying, the everything is all
on a string. I have heard about
women and children thinking they are unlimited,
I am unlimited, too, if
the two ends of a circle never meet.
My lover once closed his heart off from everyone, and I
never understood until now
that you do not
have to open up in order to be full inside. I still can
water his flowers, even the weeds
and he never has to open his eyes to see and
he never has to open his heart
to feel. I understand that sometimes it is better to just be.
The ripples of your actions has far reaching effects
Diameter of the circumference determines its impact
Result of the actions comes ricocheting, caught unaware
Actions determine what your reaction to life will be