Nine years and still
we cradle our grief
carefully close,
like groceries
in paper bags.
Eventually the milk
will make its way
into the refrigerator;
the canned goods
will find their home
on pantry shelves.
Most things find
their proper place.
Eventually the hummingbirds
will ricochet against scorched air,
their delicate beaks stabbing
like needles into the feeder filled
with red nectar on the back porch.
Eventually our child
will make her way
back to us. Perhaps.
But I’ve heard
that shooting
****** feels
like being
buried under
an avalanche
of cotton *****
For now it’s another
week, another month,
another trip to Safeway.
We drive home and wonder
why it is always snowing.
Behind a curtain of snow,
brake lights pulse, turning
the color of cotton candy,
dissolving into ghosts.
And with each turn,
the groceries shift
in the seat behind us.
From the spot where
our daughter used to sit,
there is a rustling sound—
a murmur of words
crossed off yet another list,
a language we’ve budgeted
for but cannot afford to hear.
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 2:32 AM UTC
She whispered his name each
Night like a prayer waiting to be
Heard by a god she thought was
There. The way the syllables
Swirled round her tongue like an
Ancient tale she didn't know but
Felt when she heard her heart
Beat. The feel of the letters on her
Lips was like a childhood lullaby
She had heard a thousand times
But forgot the words to.
She longed for the person she had
Once known like her first name.
But what she didn't know was that
There are some things that must
Just remain forgotten.
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 3:27 AM UTC
.
When you go I will do this,
grace your brow with a kiss.
Upon your breast I will leave
a white rose, to show I grieve.
Please forgive me when I weep
as I see you in eternal sleep.
And when I see another rose,
I'll remember well the path you chose.
My fingernails will carve the stone
as I work my fingers to the bone
to prepare with love your resting grave,
because you are the friend I could not save.
© Pagan Paul (02/11/16)
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 10:57 AM UTC
I am in the bones of life
The void of light
The final kiss
The end of dreams
The beginning of song
Wrapped in black shrouds
I give you black wings
And set you free to the night
To become a star
a moon
a sun
and a dream
To dream again
and again...
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 10:57 AM UTC
I call him the architect,
He saw the small town
Within me and built cities.
He saw the lake within me
And created seas. He saw the
Hills within me and built
Mountains that touched the
The sky.
But he didn't see me.
So he left and the world shook
And destroyed the land within.
But I can't even bring myself to
Mourn the world he so sweetly
Crafted. I can't bring myself to hate
That the land I built isn't the same.
As he showed me that the
worlds that last are the ones
We build for ourselves.
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 4:20 PM UTC
Take me back.
Please take me back.
To before we were torn
Apart by our violently
Beating hearts.
To before we drank to
Escape ourselves and
Consequences because
We both knew our words
Would only make us bleed
Crimson tears of rage.
To before we saw eachother
Not the demons that are behind.
Before we exchanged hearts,
and crucified each of
them in turn because
We thought we could save ourselves
By splitting eachother down the
Middle, and watching the other weep.
To before "I love you" meant
"We destroy eachother but
We can't stand ourselves alone,
And so we both always stay"
To before being together felt
Like ripping flesh of the bone
But being apart made us
Go insane.
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 3:55 PM UTC
I think you taught
Me how to love-
But god knows you also
Taught me that a soul
Could bleed .
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 11:50 AM UTC
When we speak the truth,
It comes from our bones.
As they knew the truth long
Before we did. Long before
Our ancestors did.
Our bones saw the beginning
Child, they know what is to come
At the end. They have seen and
Felt war and have sheltered and
Cultured peace. They have known
The universes secrets and have been
The sun, moon and all the stars.
They have fallen in love with men,
They have fallen in love with women.
They have known bone shattering love.
They've felt scarring pain.
They know what it is to live child.
Listen to the bones child.
Listen to your bones
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC