In my silent mornings
I contemplate the things you've left behind.
More than your lotion, or your sunscreen;
you've left behind, your breath, your atoms,
..me.

And here you've left your dreams..
Past halcyon days, and breathless futures.
And here I keep them for you safe from harm.
They never dim, though the years go on relentless.

And you are far away, and must needs be.
In your voice I hear the longing to come,
and the chains that keep you there.
In these modern times, we connect everyday.
I see a flame I cannot touch.
I stand before a fire that casts no warmth.
A spectre rises, and I know its name.

When I was very young
my consolation was, The Love.
The love that concealed me.
Walking home alone,
I sang my chant inside my head,
while the other children ****** me.
And Jesus was my brother,
crooning to me in my heart,
when my father's fingers wounded me.
And yet, The Love, shot through the pain,
as I ran to the trees for comfort;
singing my lonely child's keening.
I spent time, long and long
in my wooden leafy refuge.
I saw normal children play and laugh,
but only from a distance.

Sundays, my family went to church.
My sister and I, so pretty with hair so golden,
wore dresses of childish purity.
We sang in harmony with our skin still scorched
by our father's invasions.
There was hell at home, at church, at school,
with nowhere to run but into the arms of, The Love -
that only lived inside my head.
I don't know how, but I knew,
in the arms of the trees,
that there was love springing from the earth,
blowing through the air; caressed by the wings
of the birds.
My only solace were these daily gifts.
So very beautiful.
....and I was beautiful, with this Love
bursting in my heart.

Later, as I outgrew my home, my school, and my church,
I searched for love among those around me.
Many times, I could almost believe
my secret lived in others.
But what they really wanted was to capture my secret.
To hold it to themselves, and they wounded me.
-- and gasping, I crawled out of their arms.
They left my spirit near to death.
Still inside me was, The Love-
cradled inside me, calling me to life.

I don't look for love within the world anymore.
I offer it daily to others and it grows.
I am restored in the oldest church.
In the flowers, and the birds,
and the fresh spring wind.
and if there are more years to be,
I will stay free. - I will stay me,
and worship the only love there is.
Love, .. the one pure light,
that everyday holds back the dark.
God IS Love.

The sky is bleak tonight, Fitzwalter.
I see the morbid crows have cut the clouds.
It's cold, up here amidst the stonework,
with the slotted windows for the watching.
Be careful with your pipe!
though it gives you cheer it may draw the witch!
Sometimes, on the night watch,
some chattering, smattering rhyme
would dizzy dazzle my tired head.
I know it was her, come to draw me out;
to make me dance beneath her moon.
But I held out, did I. .. I did!
I sung my own songs.
Or maybe she sung mine, God help me!
No, don't light the lamp.
Watch for the moor lights
out in the field.
No! I mean,.. instead, watch for their flicker!
For in their flicker, you know well
some creature passes by.
I bid goodnight, Fitzwalter.
I beg just two short hours
and I will up and take your place.
Until then, do not cease to pray!

In blithering torment I shudder.
The pain has built to a deafening roar
of yawning madness.
I huddle as the dry scrabbling claws of
endless agony pry at my mind.
In desperation I cry, but the pain goes on.
No amount of writhing takes me from it.
No position more comfortable;
No bargains with God, heard.
The days wax on relentless
and nights go on and on, sleepless.
My face is an unrecognizable mask
and I forget my meals, my medications.. me.

Suddenly, I am free. I escape to my mind
in a well etched memory.

I am in a treasured moment and I feel no pain.
In my madness, there is you.
The scent of you is as real as I know you to be-
and touching you, I feel such happiness and desire.
I live again the first chaste kisses
and then, thrillingly, the taste of your lips.
Shocks of ecstatic electricity spasm through me,
and I feel us meld our minds kaleidescopically.
Spinning in all this beauty I fall senseless.

At last I sleep. Thank God.
I sleep.

Winter whimpers as it slips away.
Tiny leaf buds tip the filigreed branches.
How fresh the air, and sweet the breeze!
My heart quickens!
I know something is about to happen.
The world whispers secrets in my ear.
My senses are all prickling and alive!
Burst my fetters and let me fly!

On the wide yard of a farmhouse,
where the chickens scratch,
an old hay wagon sits bleaching in the sun;
its underbelly hidden in tall grass.
Lying amidst the blades of green
is a little girl clutching a kitten.
She knows no one can see her there.
How sweet it is to see and not be seen!
No one will scream at her, nor hit her now.
She can sing her sad songs to her kitten.
The kitten sings back with a purr.
Love at last.

The dark fingers of the trees
weave into the ice fog night.
I see the frost on your eyelashes
and the emptiness in your eyes.
How long before you take a few steps
And I can not see you any longer?
Please, love, do not go.
Do not use the words of a stranger-

The light from the street lamp
suffocates, as you turn into mist.
I shiver, and know,
I can't find my way home.