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One perfect autumn day,
you stood under maples
in Northern Illinois, and there
was this kind of yellowness.

With compassion and technology,
you captured the light,
gave us an image,
gave us peace.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
Before the light comes,
the wind comes.
The wind of God.
The wind of God travels
all over the Earth,
awakening the night-sleeping birds,
bringing freshness to every land.
New hope, even where we are troubled,
or grieving, or suffering.
Often these days, this wind of God
blows through my open heart.
And it frees me to love totally,
to love innocently, to love bravely,
As God loves us.
©Elisa Maria Argiro

At the time this poem was forming into words, I was awakening early each morning, stepping out into the first rustling wind that, scientists tell us, literally travels around the Earth.
  Aug 2015 Elisa Maria Argiro
Havran
The dusk came;
I watched the moon glowing,
and there I have it,
a word to describe the feeling when you’re bluer than blue;
Yellow, darling,
that’s what it felt like, right?
Glowing, but empty.
It’s time to let go of those
who lift you up just to leave you emptier
than when they found you.
Remember how the sun sets to make way for the moon?
Well, this I tell you:
The moon leaves for a brighter day.
The dawn came;
I watched as the sun turned slowly
from red
to bright orange.
It’s the morning,
and
it’s
beautiful.
It’s time to rise and shine darling.
Rise above the horizon
and shine brighter.

To become your own sun,
to realize that you are the world,
and that
the people,
and the places,
and the phrases
and words
and thoughts
and ideas
that revolve
and pass around you
are
to each
their own solar systems.
It was wrong of them to tell us
that no man is an island.
Each one of us is an island,
and it is when you
peek into
The
Looking
Glass
that you realize
that some islands
have beacons
and some have
watchtowers,
yet all of them
are searching
for another light.
To shine in their way;
to lead,
or be lead
home.”

*Y.O. & D.C.
A collaboration between my dearest bestfriend and I :)
Three bright yellow stars on a little box of matches,
in a kitchen in Reykjavik.

When lit, they flare up with uncommon energy and brightness.
This little box of matches is from Sweden, like your people.

Having said it badly once,
I want to tell you what you have taught me.
How joy and strength, honesty and humor, create sanity.

Goodness is a fragrance you exude, like soft brown bread.
Green shoots of grass, and leaves,
are brighter because you have told me about them.

Once, sitting together in a park,
a real-live bluebird settled onto a telephone wire in front of us.

A metaphor paying a call, making a personal visit.

You brought that bluebird to us.
I know it.

Because you are my beloved best friend,
a Swedish form of light.
©Elisa Maria Argiro, 2008,  Santa Fe, New Mexico
Just between you and me,
I'd rather be a saint than a poet...

But to see the world like this:

A huge, shining consonant, lying on its side,
over the very ordinary clothesline,
well,
that's something, isn't it?
©Elisa Maria Argirò

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