Normally I wouldn't start this way,
But-
Its not you , its always me,
Well I suppose in a fashion you are blameless to a point,
Equating you with love and comfort was a mistake,

I need to set some healthy boundaries,
In the end I hope we can be friends,
but for now,
Its arms length
Till I get my mental strength.

When they said,
NO,
She raised her chin,
She stared them in the eyes
She smiled and said , yes.

When they said,
You can’t
She laughed and said , watch me.

Blue icy eyes flecked with determination,
She is everything I wish I could be.
She is light and inspirational.

She is grit and dirt
She is skinned knees and *****
She is unapologetic laughter at the top of your lungs.
She is fire and ice in one.
She is my heart.
She is my first and beloved “wife”.

She is a summer wind,
Soft and warm,
Caressing your skin with flowered spiked fingers,

Yet, She can produce the darkest skies,
Winding , whipping, tempests.
She is all things and none,

She is ever changing
Ebbing tides and rising suns all contained in one smile,
But if you look in her eyes,

You.
Find the truth of it,
That the tempest is always rising and she is the gatekeeper to contain it.

Our Lady Corona ,
Walks in heavy light,
She is the patron saint of the quarantine soul,
The saint of not to close ,
Of yes, of course, if you think so,
Of broken relationships filled with stress fractures,
Of racial violence,
Of No , I ******* think not anymore, not today,
Of lost ambition and found glory,
Of viral dances and memes,
Of shattered vases, hearts, and tears.

Our Lady Corona,
Shepherdess of our own moral ambiguity,
Of our lack of societal value in others,
Of our need to be, exist within our own universe,
Of our lack of empathetic emotional service,
Of our generational divide,
Of our continental divide, of the divide that is the political mainstream.

Our Lady Corona,
Take pity on we poor sinners,
Take pity on those we have wronged by our “snow flake” or “Boomer” additude,
Take pity on the hearts that blacken daily with their lack of remorse and understanding,
Take pity on the break down of human empathy.

For we ask in your name to be passed over,
The great equalizer you bring for some.

But in your wake let me singularly believe,
Not all things, not all people, not forever, just days,
Perhaps, just as all other things , you too shall pass.

LGG 3/19/21

**** man , I just don’t know she says to me,
I just don’t know.
The sepia seeping into the memories spread across her table.
She wears her heart on her sleeve but weakness it is not.
Our deepest conversations have since I can remember happened in kitchen chairs
With corelle cups and music,
Rivers in the background .

I was lost for a while and I know it took me far too long to find my way back.
Thank you for waiting for me , for not losing hope that I would find my way,
I can never give you back the time,
I promise now that you can’t shake me,
Twenty-eight be ******.

She is grace, beauty and beat down in one,
Shaped by the parental other half,
Carrying the legacy like a crown.

When I miss him the most I turn to you because of it,
Because you carry the last flame , spark , of the man who chased the monsters in the dark.

She is a song not many hear,
She is wind chimes, chai tea, and floral print,
She is aphrodite .

She is a delicate touch,
She is a wild will,
She is Diana.

She has held my heart for many years

She is a will-o-wisp,
Lost and found ,
Unsure of herself.

But, I see you,
I see you in so many beautiful things,
I see you in sunrises on the deck in cloud decked coffee,
I see you in spring when the snow crous open
I see you in the fiery fall maple standing tall ready to with stand the brutality of winter,
Only to grow and find a new spring.
The sparrow who withstands ALL things and still sings her song upon the breeze.

You were a love I thought I lost,
Your kisses live rent free in my mind,
Your smile branded on my heart,
You made me realize intimacy isn’t just this or that,
It is in all things and for that I thank you .

I write like the ocean,
Wave upon word strewn wave,
Only, though, in times of turmoil,
When in those few moments of peace,
I am like glass,
Heart and pen still,
No words pouring from my hand.
Yet, as of late I pound the boulder strewn shores of discontent,
Railing against doubt,
Hoping that if I wear them away peace will again come.
Glassy, smooth.