I fill my heart
I fill my heart with you
when there is only blue
and everything is hollow

I grab a star
I grab a star for you
what would you have me do
I will always follow

we sail
into the open Sea
the Sky
the only blue I see
your eyes
they are the first to see
me
they are the first to see
me

you came along
you change the colors too
what a thing to do
when everything is  hollow

I walk these streets,
of which, I don't belong
Ever carrying the scent of
Death,
and vintage whisky
A visceral and demented
MayBerry hell
Still,
It is here, in which I dwell
Everyone plays their part,
Pays their bills
Me?
A mere ghost
haunting these wooded hills
A house,
I possess  
Home,
I lack
I wander
Alone
I belong no where
Everywhere
Just not here
And so.....

I wander
And belong to no one
A wanderess.......

~A

I have been left
            floating
     my arms out
in mid-action
as if to stop
what might have always
             inevitably come        
                   and I am dangling
above forest and brush
            above wild animals
          who look at me
in wonder
my goddess energy
in temporary shock
      my grief
billowing behind me
like an 18th century gown
in a black cloud of mourning
it threatens to
drown me completely
but my secret weapon
      is to let it ride its course
              to feel it in all intensity
For I know
this will pass
I will be ok
and so I let it go
untethered
like a river's rushing current
like a pocket of turbulence
like a storm that whips up,
engulfing quiet
in sudden froth
my hair flows
      like a manga warrioress,
about to strike
her revenge upon the Earth
rage in arrows that pummel
your confused, bruised heart
where truth hides
within layers
upon layers of
     veiled
night air

Like an alien in a spotlight
With her magnifying glasses on
My mother as she worked, up all night
Did invisible weaving till dawn

I would watch her when I couldn’t sleep
Honing in on that hole in the suit
Intently, her concentration deep
Weaving tiny threads enlarged like jute

In other-worldly light she labored
I was afraid she’d lose her eyesight
Watching her focus never wavered
Her face all aglow in the lamplight

Invisible weaving, I inquired
How tediously she plied her craft
Worked for the money that she required
Made the warp and weft of fabric last

Reconstruction, undetectable
No more burn, or tear, or fabric blight
Weaving magic so incredible
Its wound now perfect by morning’s light

She taught me much that I’m still making
From her life that now I’m grieving
Sewing, crocheting and great baking
But never invisible weaving

The picture of her life that mattered
I now see how she toiled so finely
And that the wrinkles in the fabric
Of my own life splayed out so blindly

The vision of my eyes, bedazzled
Incandescent, her face in the beam
Unaware how her mind unraveled
As Depression stole her ev’ry dream

The threads of DNA defining
Who I’ve become I’m now believing
My mother’s hand in that designing
Of my own Invisible Weaving

In honor of my mother, Edla Sylvia Fitzpatrick, on this International Women's Day

twilight
such a beautiful word
as if the sight itself could be heard
the soft glowing light from the sky
when the Sun is below the horizon,
caused by the refraction and scattering
of the Sun's rays from the atmosphere
it's so clear
come close
do you hear?