Little problem, tiny flame.
Thoughts running wild
Around and around
Stir the little flame
Into a fiery maelstrom.
Let the cool breath of reason
Set thoughts to rest!
How quickly the flame returns
To its proper size.

This rock is strong.
A sheltering reef, encircling the first hints of growth
And keeping the water smooth and calm
As molten magma rises to the surface and the monolith takes shape.

This rock is solid.
As the protective reef sinks into the sea
The waters rise and begin to pound the stone's mighty face
Testing, trying, searching for any weakness.

This rock is sure.
The reef is mostly gone now
And the waves bring their full fury to bear
But its foundation holds fast and it stands tall.

This rock is stalwart.
Many storms have come, and many storms have passed
Though chipped and battered, weathered and worn
Its proud head remains held high.

This rock is softening.
An active volcano rises, rises, just too close
Molten fingers snaking out, melting solid stone
A foundation under fire.

This rock is not a rock at all.
It stirs and awakens
Trembling, tender, and reaching out
Toward heat, toward desire
Toward you.

Your touch is fire.
Trails of heat that mark
Each place where skin brushed skin.
Sinking, spreading into a rich, warm glow.

Your touch is ice.
Frosty tendrils entwining
The delicate nervous network they find.
Cool shivers radiating from every fiber.

Your touch is lightning.
A buildup of charge
As distance closes.
On contact, a surge, a tingling rush.

Fire, ice, lightning:
Touched by three,
And by three bound;
And all three bound within a single touch.

Once I believed I was a lump of coal
Dead and burned out

Now I see I was a raging wildfire
Simply waiting for your spark

NEXT!
Good lord, that was a disaster.
Forget the script. Perhaps it's time to improvise
Get her on stage and just dialogue.
She has such a comfortable presence up there,
Like she was born to play that part.
It's as if she's seen the words contained within those pages
Even though they lie, facedown, on the chair.
But the script is direction, it is control.
The script. THE SCRIPT.

It's wrong.
The script is wrong.
The lines are wrong.
Her delivery is wrong.
This whole theatre reeks of wrong.
Wrong, wrong, WRONG!

Out. GET OUT.
**** the lights as you go.

Nothing but dark, and quiet.
The darkness persists, but the quiet cannot last.
Unwritten lines met with easy delivery,
Unscripted staging matched by effortless movement,
A couple of bumps in the road
(What production is without those?)
But still, beauty in the performance--
Now replaying in the silence.

A single bulb flickers on,
Casts its wavering light over that script,
That work, crafted so meticulously.
A fat lot of good it's been.

A new idea strikes.
Certain? No. Nothing is certain.
But worth a shot.
The script? Facedown in the trash
Except the few words to set the opening scene.
The play? Not for one actor, but two.
A note scrawled to she who was chased out,
And nothing left to do but sit
Under the solitary bulb
In a darkened theatre
Hoping for a knock at the door.

I can't breathe.
An invisible hand rests on my shoulders
Bearing down with a weight beyond my ken
And keeps my head under water.
At the bottom of a waterfall's pool I sit
Caught in the embrace of the great cataract.
This bed was made of my own choosing
Flinging myself with abandon off the cliff's edge
To enjoy the moments of breathless exhilaration
The beautiful abandon in the weightless fall.
The entry, difficult, but not impossible:
Reaching hands parting the ice-cold waters
So the body can slice through
Like a hot knife into butter.
The first moments, not unbearable:
Tumbled down to the bottom by the churning waters
But bolstered by two lungs bursting with life-giving air.
As time slowly ticks on, second by agonizing second
Pinned by the embrace of the waterfall and losing oxygen
The need to breathe arises.
Pressure builds within the body, as if to compete
With the weight of the waterfall
Growing greater with each passing moment
Threatening to force the breath
The body so desperately desires
As conscious and subconscious lock in furious battle
Over control of the lungs.
The conscious fights on,
Aware that I am still trapped at the bottom.
One voice alone can cut through the turgid waters
A lifeline to cling to and use
To drag myself up, hand over hand
Fighting against the pressure until my head breaks the surface
And I can draw a few gasping breaths
Before the line is severed
And I am pummeled to the bottom once more.
The waiting game resumes
Each time unsure of survival
And each time mustering the will to hold on
Until that precious lifeline appears
Hoping for the day
The line will knife through the water one final time
Anchored securely, no longer doomed to separation
And I can climb forth
Leaving the waterfall's pool
Far behind.

Don't move.
The air is rich with magic.
The words that so recently dropped from the poet's lips
Now hold you transfixed, as if they were
The words to a spell of binding
Freezing you to your seat and reminding you
That the pen is still mightier than the sword.
You sit, unwilling to stir, because you know all too well
That the minute you move, you'll break the spell
And the shell constructed from the lines of verse
Will shatter like someone touched the magic with a curse
And the world will come rushing back in.
A single rustle is all it takes for the world to reawaken
And the spell to break. But as the mystic moment fades away,
You pray that some of the magic will stay
And cling to you like stray cobwebs,
Trailing the beauty of the words that were spoken
So that others might be touched by the magic that awoke
In the few moments you took to step away from the world.
But whether or not the magic leaves a trail for others,
It will not fail to nestle itself inside your head
And every night you spend tossing sleepless in bed
The words will be turning over and over--
They will dissociate and scramble and regenerate
Until at last they precipitate into a new brand of magic.
Then the day will come when you, too, will stand
In that sacred space before a crowd of eager young faces--
Or perhaps just sit and spend some time with a single friend--
And you will hold in your hand a paper
Filled with the dots, lines, and squiggles
That are the visual representation
Of this creation of yours, this poetic summation
Of the beauty that has invaded your soul
And forced its way out again.
As you draw your first breath, you begin weaving the net
That will set the stage for you to upset their status quo
And transport them to a place from which you know
They will return wanting more.
Then you will speak the words
And pass the magic on.

It’s been three years.
As I drag myself from the wreckage of yet another crash
Lungs full of smoke and skin seared with burns
I can’t help but think of that day
Three years ago
When we stopped playing hide-and-seek
Each of us circling the same gorgeous little two-seater
Each of us refusing to believe we were not alone in the hangar—
When we finally climbed into the cockpit
Admitted that we wanted to fly this thing
And started preparing for takeoff.
It hummed to life like it had been waiting for us
To put our hands to the controls
Like it was not a machine to be flown
But a connection and extension of our very minds
How it leapt down the runway and soared into the sky!
How glorious the flight through clear blue skies!
How terrible the storm that hit.
Enveloped by black clouds
Tossed to and fro by the wind
We wrestled with the elements
And then my controls locked up.
A moment of panic—
“This thing can’t fly without two pilots!”
A desperate grab for the handle by my feet
One last look at my copilot
Then a sharp tug, a violent flinging into darkness.
I don’t know how you piloted out of that storm
How you got that thing out of the sky
But when I tracked you to the landing site
(After months frozen to my ejection seat
Numb and unable to move)
I could see it was in bad shape
Beyond repair? I didn’t think so
But I arrived just in time to see you walk away
Your helmet, left in the dust by a bent and twisted wing
The last reminder of you.
They say you’ve taken wing again
A new copilot at the controls
(I catch glimpses of a tiny speck high overhead sometimes)
And after three years I can naught but wish you well
But, burned and ****** from my last disaster
I cannot help but sit here on the ground
And dream of the sky.

I can't breathe.
Starved for oxygen
Hurling myself this way and that
Completely out of my element

Flip. No good.
In fact, the effort probably put me
Further from where I wanted to go
I wasn't designed for this

Flop. Still nothing.
I think I may be a bit closer
But the water is still out of reach
How much do I have left?

Perhaps less is more.
Frantic flip-flopping has accomplished nothing
Calm down and inch, bit by bit
Toward water, and oxygen, and life.

Halfway up the cliff face
That's as far as I've ever gone
Because halfway up the cliff face
Is where the easy route ends

The only way forward beyond this point
A daring leap to the next handhold
Abandoning the safety of the ledge under my feet
Taking a chance

Other climbers have made their way past
Taken the leap and kept climbing upward
And others have scrabbled at the wall, just short
Falling away to God knows where

How easy to say to each one who comes by
"The climb has been pretty easy so far
I could make the jump if I wanted to
But I'm good here, thanks"

Celebrated for climbing as far as I have
Lauded for doing it with such ease
That's enough for me
Isn't it?

Refusing to jump means I won't ever fall
But I won't ever get anywhere, either
What's up there, anyway? Curiosity
Is starting to get to me

My muscles have gotten cold
I've been sitting here far too long
I try and shake the stiffness out
It's time to move forward

That handhold up there seems awful small
I'm not so sure I have what it takes
To make the jump anymore
But I'll never know if I don't try

Catch or fall I will hold my head high
Knowing I gave it everything
I crouch, taking a deep breath
There's no going back

Muscles explode into motion
Propelling me upward
And I stretch, reaching
For the next hold

There was only supposed to be one casualty.
That’s how these kinds of things work, right?
A perpetrator, and a victim.
The thief doesn’t lose his wallet.
The killer isn’t struck by his own bullet.
But somehow when I reached out
From the depths of the ice-bound pit
I could find no escape from
And ground out the flame
You had been nurturing so faithfully
The flame you tried to use
To warm my frozen hands
Revive my deadened heart—
I saw you break
Felt you shatter
As I broke the foundation
And watched everything we built
Crumble
But I didn’t see the collateral damage.
It was a killing curse
Rebounding off a heart protected by a family’s love
Striking instead the more fragile of the two
Sending a starburst network of cracks
Radiating through an icy suit of armor.
I’ve climbed out of the pit since then
(I think)
And the frozen armor could not withstand
The sun’s embrace
Turns out the jagged fracture lines cut
Completely through the ice
And now at the slightest touch
My porcelain heart
Shatters

I am master of words.
I command, and they march forth
To do my bidding.
When the battle drums sound,
They arm themselves with slender swords,
Delicate and deadly,
Designed to slip through every hole
In an opponent's defenses
And leave wicked wounds.
When they come to the bargaining table,
They don their smoothest silver
And enter into the intricate steps
Of a dance that leads them in circles,
Drawing slowly closer
To their true purpose.
When they must be kept at bay
They find themselves facing walls
Tall and strong
Behind which they can find no exit.
I am master of words,
Until I fall into those endless chasms
Set in twin blue-green seas
Framed by milk.
The swift and deadly swords
Become sticks in the hands of children.
The dancers stumble and stutter
Over once-graceful steps.
Walls crumble, and every errant thought
Now seizes on the rich supply
And flings the words forth,
A hairsbreadth out of reach
Of my grasping hands,
Now just too slow to ****** them back.
With a single glance, the tables turn
In a heartbeat
And the words
Become master of me.

The white cable-knit sweater
Does not hang on a mannequin
But drapes from a much more graceful frame.
The words "Dr. and Dr."
Are not lines on a page
But inflections of a rich, warm voice.
The piano keys move
Not under the influence of my fingers
But of ones much smaller and fairer.
You are everywhere--
In all the little things.
I cannot escape you.

I am empty.
This pen has run all out of ink.
After all, aren’t there only so many ways
You can scream “sorry” to the wind?
A finite number of variations on
"Miss you," whispered into the infinite silence?

You are no more than an echo on my bones
But that knowledge does not keep me
From laying open skin and muscle
Layer by layer, baring my bones
Like some garish xylophone
And clumsily tap-tap-tapping,
Trying to recreate the faint melody
That hovers in the twilight of memory
Nothing more than a vague outline
Nearly blending into the horizon

You are no more than a ghost in my darkened corners
And still I chase your insubstantial form
A will-o-the-wisp that draws me into the marshland of my mind
Looking to catch the faintest impish flash of blue-gray mischief
Pursing the shadowy figure in hopes that this time—
This time!—
It will prove more substantial than the vanishing mist
My arms have closed around, every time past
Once again I pick myself up out of the mire
Trying to brush off the clinging regrets
And plod back towards the path
Feet dragging and leaving furrows in the ground
Like an empty pen, still scratching its way across a barren page
Determined to ignore any more dancing lights in the distance
Knowing all too well that the resolve will only last
Until the next one flickers to life and calls me into the darkness

I am empty.
Nothing more to say about reckless dreams of forever
No reason to keep staring downriver
Wondering how far that ship might have sailed
Had I chosen to remain at its helm through rocky waters
And yet, when I look back at the blank page
I discover that the pen wasn’t empty after all
And the trail it left behind
Still spells your name

I have passed by you before
As we both circle this rock that circles the sun
Friendly encounters, cheerful conversation
How’s that orbit treating you?
Did you see the storm cell over Bali?
In fact, these days it seems
Our paths are crossing more and more
Each time it’s easier and easier
To inch closer, linger a moment longer
Before our paths take us apart again.
I’ve crept too close--
A gentle nudge, a touch like heaven
But it has upset my orbit--
Not much, but just enough.
They say you’ll know when you start to fall;
Though it is slight, I can feel gravity’s pull
And I know it is only a matter of time--
I will circle ever closer toward that gaseous mantle
That blankets the world below
Until at last the atmosphere welcomes me
With open arms and a fiery embrace.
My doom is set
But that touch still burns in my mind
And I reach for you without thinking
Then freeze--
I will not drag you to my fate
I will not pull you down with me!
A soft hand slips tenderly into mine
My momentum tugs you out of your perfect orbit--
You know of the fate that awaits as well as I
Yet you choose it anyway.
The path now draws us down
But it is a path we will travel together:
Eventually we will meet the atmosphere
Lighting up the sky as it strips us bare
Strips us to nothingness
But as we blaze into the glorious unknown
Down below, they will see our trail through the sky
Cast their wishes on us in our final moments
And marvel.

Life-giving rain.
Seeping through the soil,
Awaking a sleeping seed.
Roots spread,
A slender shoot stretches to the sky.

Thieving rain.
Cutting canyons in the earth,
Carrying away precious soil
With each drop.
Roots reach in vain,
Grasping nothing.

Murderous rain.
Stripping the seedling bare.
Where once was life and warmth,
Now silent
And cold.

What secrets hide behind that sunny smile?
Your sparkling eyes
Hold more than just innocence
What else lies beneath those infinite pools?
Little flashes of light from deep within
Reveal a maze of sandbars
And the wrecks of proud ships
The only remnants of many brave attempts
To navigate waters
Far more dangerous than they appear
I have seen beneath the sugar coating
And glimpsed the steel it covers
And now curiosity drives me on
I take the helm
And enter the maze

Storms inside my head
Rage without an end.
The wind attacks from all directions--
Attempts to strip from me
The little covering to which I cling.
Vicious, stinging raindrops
Are driven sideways by the wind
And assault my naked face.
Rumbling drumbeats of thunder
Creep ominously closer,
Heralds to the storm's mightiest weapon.
FLASH.
A brilliant spear of light is flung
From an unseen hand within the clouds
And strikes the earth.
My eyes are stricken also
And I stumble,
Robbed of precious sight.
Soaked, battered, and blinded,
I seek to uncork this storm--
Allow its wild fury to spread and disperse.
But its only outlet
Is a tiny pinhole of an opening,
And through this aperture
All that can fit--
Two simple words:
Miss you.

I miss being in love with you.
I miss lighting up every time you came into the room.
I miss the feel of your skin against mine.
I miss feeling like our souls connected every time we touched.
I miss reaching for your hand and not being able to keep the silly smile off of my face.
I miss late night conversations that would go on and on because we had so much to talk about.
I miss writing letters to you
I miss getting letters from you.
I miss the look in your eyes when you said “I love you.”
I miss the million conversations we held with just our eyes.
I miss the look that passed between us every time we dropped into perfect harmony.
I miss hearing you sing.
I miss hearing you laugh.
I miss the easy way we talked about forever.
Life dropped an atomic bomb on our picture-perfect future. My heart shattered in the blast and I’m still infected by the fallout.
I’m sorry.
I miss you.

I only meant to dip a toe in
The water looked so peaceful
So inviting
So I edged closer and closer
At every step checking to see
If it was really me
To whom the river beckoned
Step
By step
Until toes met water
So crisp and cool
The lap of gentle waves against bare skin
And still the river called
A little further
A little deeper
And I answered
Edging out away from the shore
The river didn’t look that wide
Didn’t look that deep
The other bank only a stone’s throw away
How lovely to wade across and emerge on the other bank
Refreshed by the brisk kiss of water on skin
Step
By step
By —

Empty space where there should have been riverbed
Balance lost, pitching forward
Head underwater
Into the channel
Into the current
And all at once
Swept away
A moment of panic
Floundering for equilibrium
And then
Peace
Amidst the thrill of being caught
In the water’s flow
A germ of an idea
Building
Swelling
Like a growing wave on the current
Maybe where the water is carrying me
Is a place
I want
To be

From silence springs to new life
All of the things I had chosen to forget
Page after page of words now burrowing into my mind

Promises to weather the difficult journey
With a vision of a sparkling future ahead
Shattered like crystal swept from a high shelf

Now I sit amidst a pile of broken glass
(The shards are awfully sharp)
Holding this piece, that piece, to the light

Even the fragments reflect so prettily
It was pretty dazzling when it was whole
How unfortunate that I have no glue

A drop of oil
Though surrounded by ocean
Still wholly alone

When the smile falters
Be sure to have a mask ready
To hide behind
To show to the world
And keep it there
Until you are smiling again
However long it takes
No matter how much it hurts
Because if it slips
The world will see
The broken wreck
That is
You

Your eyes are not stars
They do not glow with heavenly light
Neither are they limpid pools
Inviting me to explore their endless depths
I have no metaphor for your eyes
For iris and pupil, muscle and neuron
But somehow they hold a wicked gleam
The mark of mischief, past and future

I can't look away.

Your smile is not the sun
It does not give off heat to be basked in
Neither is it a blinding light
Too powerful for a direct glance
I have no metaphor for your smile
For skin and tooth and muscle
But somehow it spreads from mouth to eyes
And in that moment, you've never smiled at anyone else

I can't help but smile back.

Your touch is not fire
It does not leave burns in its wake
Neither is it lightning
Releasing electric charge as distance closes
I have no metaphor for your touch
For the feel of skin against skin
But somehow every brushing contact
Leaves a trail of goosebumps

I can't breathe.

You defy metaphor
I do not wish you to be the sun, or the stars
A limpid pool, a blinding light
Or anything but what you are
I have no metaphor for you
For beauty and brilliance, sweetness and sass
But with each word, each look, each touch
You draw me further and further in

I am wholly captivated.

Blademasters are we:
Circling each other, wary.
Two masters of our craft,
Skilled not in the art of cut and slash
But rather the parry and ******--
Leaving delicate but deadly wounds
Wherever we strike.
Circling closer,
Weapons sheathed, but ever wary.
From their homes at our hips
Our blades have sprung, just once,
And in the brief but furious interchange
Each dealt a wicked wound
Before returning to rest.
And yet, despite the pain,
Still we circle closer--
Weapons sheathed, but ever wary.
The circle closes until
Hands connect,
Feet move as one:
A graceful dance begins.
At such close range, any ******
Heralds grim death,
But we acknowledge danger--
Acknowledge, and disregard.
Blades silent at our sides,
Taking step after delicate step.
Weapons sheathed,
And slowly trusting.

I’m impressed you made it this far
See, most people don’t ever leave the beach
Staying where the sun is hot
The water is warm
The breeze is cool
Thinking that’s the main attraction on this island
But you
You
Saw the mountain
Left the shore behind
And started climbing
You found the cave
At the end of a tiny, winding track
Nestled high in the cliff’s face
And headed straight for the heart of the mountain
The tunnel collapse didn’t stop you
But on
On
You came
Until the wall blocked your path
The wall
Meant to protect the island’s heart
A formidable barrier of solid ice
Thick enough to turn the mightiest of weapons
And here you are
Before the wall
Unfazed
You lay your bare hands
(Still scratched and raw from the cave-in)
Against its surface
And under their gentle warmth
It begins
To melt

You can't make me:
Words heard oft from a child's lips.
How odd, then, that they would be
Rising from the depths
Of my core, my inner being.
In defiance they rise
To challenge what I understand
All too well, but flashing from my eyes
Is a refusal to be banned
Once more to wander outside your walls.
Think you that a simple command
Can cool the trails of heat left behind,
Marking every touch of your hand?
Although my protection may be your design,
Still my concern lingers on.
So do your best to make me disappear--
Use your tricks, every last one.
In the end you'll find I'm still here
Because I refuse to run,
And you can't make me.

It’s been quiet for so long.
Who knows how much time has passed
Since the last strains of melody
Faded from hearing
Moving through a world full of light and life
But still
And so I have also moved through this world
In silence
Making no sound

I had almost forgotten the feeling
Pressure waves against the eardrums
The nervous energy of recognition
The joy of song, of sound
Until you
Resonant, radiant you
Brimming and bursting with song
Electric, alight, alive
And as your music falls on my ears
I rediscover my voice

It may as well have been tethered to me
So closely has the phone stayed by my side
A hawk could not watch his prey with more intensity
As I prayed, all day, for the text
That would open the door
End the eternity of waiting

Then, with no warning--
Buzz buzz, buzz buzz
My heart springs to my throat
My stomach flops unsteadily
And I realize
The waiting wasn't so bad after all

This planet in its course proceeds apace
Careening through the stars with not a care
For all the souls that dwell upon its face
Their sorrows, nor the triumphs that they share
The sun o'er the horizon peeks its head 
And casts its warmth to all beneath its rays
'Tis no less bright for all the tears we shed
But still it shines to guide us through our days
The flow'rs still bloom with beauty just as bright
And heav'nward reach, the sun's embrace to feel
Their small, glad faces bringing joy and light
To every burdened heart with wounds to heal
Yes, life still marches on without you here
Yet sweeter would it be if you were near

This one is for my grieving family.

When people say that their hearts are heavy they hit the nail on the head, and right now mine feels like it weighs about a thousand pounds. With each new loss it gains weight and drags down, pulling on the vessels that are supposed to give life until they become a noose circling my windpipe, cutting off my precious supply of air. I can't breathe. It seems that every day now I hear the echoing sounds of the cries and the groans that bounce their way down the Facebook grapevine, another status update with another picture of another face that the Enemy took before their time. Even from where I stand, a thousand miles from the epicenter, I can barely keep on my feet because I'm rocked by the aftershock tremors as they come, one on top of the other. It seems these days the valley just can't catch a break, with tragedy striking faster and faster, giving the people barely enough time to pull themselves from the rubble that is the aftermath of the last disaster before the next one sends them running even faster to dive back into their foxholes. And when they finally dare to get to their feet, the only things before their eyes are broken homes and broken lives, gaping holes that can never be filled, the growing numbers of loved ones killed in this war in whose crossfire we find ourself caught.

This one is for my broken valley.

Now, we know of this epic struggle between forces we cannot see, this fight we call the Great Controversy, but while some hide in their foxholes and pray for mercy others choose to be the warriors on the front lines, the Maddys and Fishers and Rosas who let their lights shine both to drive back the darkness and to encourage those of us who aren't so fearless to don our full armor and enter the battle with the same reckless abandon. And though they have fallen we choose to stand in their places, filling the holes in the battle lines and praying for their souls that have gone to rest. We fight on through these tragedies that test our faith, and we look to our great General, who alone knows the lay of the battlefield and the day of victory.

This one is for Rosa, for Fisher, for Maddy.

Every bridge we hold, every hill we storm, we do with their memory in our hearts and their names ringing on our lips. We will continue this fight until the light fades from our eyes and our time on earth is done, knowing that we all will be reunited on that day when Jesus finally comes.

This one is for my family that will be made whole again one day.

Nobody warned me
That the feel of your body
Warm, curled into the hollow of mine
Would remain forever imprinted
On my skin
The smell of your hair
Splayed across the pillow
Forever lingering in my nostrils
The taste of your lips
Eager and restless against mine
Forever on my tongue

Two bodies
Both caught in the irresistible pull
Of a slowly quickening rhythm
A rising desire to strip away
Every bit of space that separated them
The rhythm eventually fading to stillness
Leaving only soft you, warm you
Your curves fitted to mine
Like the other half of a matching set

I wash you out of my mouth, my skin
And the dust gathers
Time passes, sensations fade
But all it takes is a single word
To trigger a memory
That sweeps the dust aside
Stunned, I stare at the lines of ink
Etched into my skin
A map of each place
Where your hands, your body met mine
The feel, the smell, the taste of you
Suddenly fresh again in my mind
And I ache for the warmth that was

Sprawled on the floor, patient.
It smells so good!
Cold nose on warm leg--
Nudge. Nudge. Nudge.
No response.
Rising up to bring face closer to face,
Eyes turned upward in full power.
At last, a morsel tossed down!
Snatched in midair,
Gone before it hits the floor.
So much work for one tiny bite!
Sink to the floor once more
And repeat.

Brave and Stupid must be twins:
They look so identical.

I never thought this tiny metal band would weigh so much
It might as well be a millstone tied around my neck
And it drags me down, down, down
I hope there's an ocean floor down there somewhere
They say you'll find everything you ever wanted when you finally touch bottom
But no one knows how far it is to the floor
(And some people seem to get there sooner than others)
My lungs burn, but it's not so bad, I guess
You get used to not having air after a while
Some people don't even know what a lungful feels like--
Aren't they the lucky ones!
Memories still linger of gasping breaths
Times when I fought this weight and swam to the surface
Oh the sweet feeling of oxygen in my lungs!
The light winking on the water, the lazy waves rolling along, the warm sun on my face!
And the tempting sight of those tiny figures high overhead
Those who have left the ocean altogether and taken to the skies
Soaring and pinwheeling through the air
Rising on updrafts just to fold their wings and plummet towards the water's surface
In dizzying displays of graceful acrobatics
Join us in the skies! they call
Leave the weight behind!
(It's only pulling you down anyway)
What you thought were fins are actually wings and you were meant to FLY!
How tempting their offer sounds!
How could anything that awaits on the ocean floor
Compare to the thrill of flight and the joy of these majestic beings?
All it would take is to let the weight go--
(Come to think of it, this thing isn't even tied to me--
I've been clutching it this whole time!)
Let the weight go, and grab on as one of these sky-dwellers
Dive-bombs the water's surface, hand outstretched
To ****** me up and carry me aloft
Where I will join in their graceful dance.
But of course, it's not that simple
Drop the weight, and it sinks to the bottom without you
They say anyone who takes to the skies, and then chooses to return to the sea
Can only get to the bottom one way:
Swimming.
Few make it all the way down--
Their lungs scream for air as they struggle for the ocean floor
And often, worn out, they float to the surface once more
Unable to make it without a weight to help them down
Banished to the skies by their own choices
Torn between the pull of the weight and the siren call of the sky,
I remain at the ocean's surface
Treading water
And getting tired.

It won't work, we said.
Just walk away, we said.
Life is stacked against us.
The odds just aren't in our favor.
Somewhere along the line,
My heart missed that memo.
It still turns over
Every time I see
You smile.

Late nights
Cars
And hormones
Can make for bad decisions

Your gentle hand, it fits so well in mine
Though, by comparison, it is so small--
And when our fingers meet and intertwine
You take me as your prisoner, bound, enthralled.
Your smile, although its purest form so few
Will ever see, shines forth in blinding light--
And when it turns on me, I hope anew,
And for your heart once more renew my fight.
Your lips, they brush my skin like fairies' wings
And cause my racing heart to skip a beat--
They give me faith to trust in all the things
That your eyes say to mine, each time they meet.
Alas that cruel fate from me would ban
All three of these: your lips, your smile, your hand.

I should be soaring
Winging my way to you, but
My wings have been clipped

I want nights with you.

I want to shut the door on the world, unlace my armor and take off my masks. I want to leave it all behind, one naked soul meeting another at an oasis of trust. I want your body moving in rhythm with mine. I want racing hearts and gasping breaths and sweaty sheets. I want to learn every inch, every curve, every corner of you. I want to feel you nestle your body into the curve of mine, lay your head on my shoulder, and pull my arm around your waist. I want your fingers to intertwine with mine as if they always belonged there. I want my thumb to trace idle circles on your skin as I lose consciousness, for no other reason than the joy of feeling your skin against mine, no other reason than it feels like the most natural thing in the world. I want to drift off to sleep with the smell of you in my head, the feel of your heart beating in time with mine, the warmth of you against me.

I want mornings with you.

I want tingles in my arm as another reminder of you using me as a pillow. I want sunlight peeping across your face, transforming your hair splayed across the pillow into a radiant halo. I want to see you lying next to me. I want to trace with my eyes every curve that I mapped with my body. I want to see the rise and fall of your breath, and feel each one whisper against my skin. I want to hide under covers, pretending the sun has not come and enjoying the shared heat of two bodies intertwined. I want frowzy hair, wide yawns, and tender sleepy smiles. I want sudden heat in my belly. I want to forget about bed head and morning breath and become so aware of you I can hardly breathe. I want to wake you up with tender kisses, and with scorching ones. I want to untangle myself from you (eventually), and rise to take on a new day and new challenges.

I want days with you.

I want challenge and adventure. I want to hike and climb and swim with you. I want to take on nature’s greatest obstacles together and come out on the other side as champions. I want coffee shop dates and deep talks about life. I want to get inside your head and understand what drives you and what scares you. I want to know where you’ve come from and where you’re going, your hopes and fears and dreams and nightmares. I want to laugh with you until I can’t breathe. I want other people to look at us like we’re crazy, and know that they’ll never understand all the fun we have. I want to sit on park benches and people-watch with you. I want you to curl into the crook of my arm and lay your head on my shoulder like it’s home. I want to point out the old man teaching a young passerby the finer points of chess. I want you to show me the children screaming and laughing as they flee from each other in an endless game of tag. I want to experience life side by side with you.

I want to close the circle. I want to go from night to morning to day, and start all over again.

I want you, and I can’t seem to get enough.

I know that you were caught in the freezing blast--
The fallout of my heart icing over--
And a chilling spear lanced deep into your soul
That heart you had so willingly entwined with mine

I know that you could not remain
In the majestic glacial palace I had created
Each surface, a frozen mirror reflecting
Nothing but my fear, my agony, my struggle

I know that you have probably found summer again--
Sunshine and light, laughter and song
I see, blossoming from that once-wounded heart
New growth, fresh spirit, vibrant life

But it's so cold in here, and dark
There is no heat without the warmth of your smile
No light without the sparkle of your eyes
And I sit in solitude--frozen, numb, lifeless

Save me from this ice-bound hell of a prison.

“Please, oh please don’t move”
I whisper under my breath
I don’t want to forget this moment
Drawing the sketchbook from under my arm
With quick strokes I capture the scene
A rough sketch
Just enough to remember it later
My subject, unaware, stirs
The moment is gone
But I will carry it with me
The sketchbook a weight on my heart
Until I return to my room and behind closed door
With furious strokes bring to life on the page
The moment that I witnessed before
Pouring self into art
Until at last I am empty and the burden is lifted
Always the artist, never the subject
Capturing these visions
That come so few and far between
Until now
It seems that I can’t keep up with them
One piling on top of another
As I frantically scribble, trying not to miss a single one
Never have these solitary wanderers
Come in such numbers
They seem to be drawn to you
And when at last I have etched
These precious moments into immortality
I cannot help but bring my work to you
An artist showing his subject his art
Not expecting to see you reach behind your back
And bring forth a sketchbook of your own

Three knocks on the door.  
My time is up.
People say no one is ever forced to the stake
That every victim goes willingly
Walking with firm step toward their fiery fate
And no one knows why.
The few of us that remain stay out of sight
Hidden in basements, in attics, in darkened storage rooms
Hardly daring to move, desperate to avoid drawing any attention from them.
Legends say they are the ones who have gone to the stake
And endured its fiery embrace
Stepping forth, reborn,
To draw out those who are left
As offerings to the flame as well
Whether that is true I cannot say
But I have heard the shrieks from that dreadful pyre
(Of agony or ecstasy, I cannot say)
And have no desire to be the next victim
The handle turns, the door creaks open
Light footsteps brush along the floor
I try to curl inward on myself, shrink into my corner of the attic
And the footsteps stop
And into the silence she speaks
For a fight I was prepared
For search and struggle and seizure
But the words, leaving her lips
Dart throughout the house, up the stairs
Past all my defenses and find me cowering in the corner--
Words not of stakes and fire and burning
But of life and laughter
Charming little fellows, they take me by the hands
Effortlessly navigating in reverse
Every trap and alarm I had so carefully placed
Leading me down the stairs
Step
By step
As we near the bottom, I can see a ring of light on the floor
A torch, surely, to illuminate the way in this darkened abode
Eyes downcast, my feet leave the last step
Finding purchase on the rough stone floor
There is no torch
A pair of bare feet enter my vision and I realize
The warm glow cast all around
Comes directly from her
In shock my eyes snap upwards to meet hers
Twin suns, radiant skin, framed by living, flowing flame
A warm, inviting smile
And in that moment I am lost
I know now why there is no struggle
Why each victim freely chooses the stake and the fire
I take her now outstretched hand
Almost--but not quite--too hot to bear
And begin my journey
Toward the stake
The flame
And her embrace

Don't say yes
Because you're too selfish
To say no.

It seems the atmosphere
Is much thicker than we anticipated

Fairy tale dreams
Never translate into
Real life
Happy endings.

It’s 12:44 AM
And I can’t stop smiling
That seems to happen a lot these days
It’s honestly a wonder no one notices
How I’m always in a patch of sunshine
Maybe no one else can see the light
I suppose they’d have had to have been there
When I bottled it up in the first place
Pouncing on the sparkle of your laugh
As you threw your head back
And it bubbled up from your belly
Dancing across your face
Fleeting, but I was quicker
They must have missed
When my phone suddenly blazed with light
And I was ready with my jar
Time after time
Until the jar was so bright I could hardly look right at it
I’m home now
And the jar still holds all its brilliance
Well after midnight
And it looks like a sunny afternoon in here
Going to sleep is going to be
Rather a challenge

I am fine
The earth has not stopped turning
It proceeds around the sun like it always has

I am fine
Chains of crippling sorrow do not bind me
Making it impossible to move, to think, to breathe

I am fine
Something is wrong with my eyes, though
Nothing looks quite like it should

I am fine
But where has all the color gone?

He’s rattling the bars of his cage again.
It’s been hours since the last time he was fed
And the longer he starves the angrier he gets
I’ve tried every last trick I possess
Throwing him old bones
(He’ll gnaw on those for a while)
Telling him stories of make-believe
(Which he likes, but they can’t last forever)
Eventually I have nothing left to offer him
So I sit
While he rages
Well fed, he’s a perfect angel
There’s no need for bars or lock and key
For so long there was no shortage of food
And then the famine came
Rations twice a day, maybe more if we’re lucky
He hasn’t taken kindly to the new way of things
The shaking grows more furious
It won’t be long before he breaks free
Turns out the angrier he gets the stronger he gets too
(That thing was never meant to hold him anyway)
With a sickening wrench the cage door rips free
He storms up and down
Overturning everything in his path
While I hide in the corner
Praying for more food to come soon

I haven't found someone new
Because my heart stopped looking.