She floated towards me.
An extention of a dream,
The finger tip of God's
My eyes wide open into
Bedroom darkness, as
If seeing something ghost
Yet so very, very not.
Hair flowing as if fading
Into the frame of
Night. Arms like wings over
Eggs; every piece of my
Heart in one warm nest.
Eyes like universes, skin
The glow of supernovas.
Smile as sincere as a
Mother's. Ænima. Soul-
Muse. The final force
Behind every poet's pen.
Nothing so penetratingly
Beautiful ever touched the
Iris of my inner eye. Never
Felt such embrace, as if safe
At last; knowing: In not too
Long, every drop of water on
Earth has been
Cried at least
A breath of air
the closing of eyes,
now hold this one in
I am full
to the brim
All of me
[ taking time to center yourself ]
To live well and to die well is the same task.
the song of the old rusty swing
like a frozen pane
(somewhere in a passing memory)
not knowing if there can be
such thing as genuine trust,
you wait for transparent nights
the turmoil of words, rushing gestures,
you wake up from the lethargy of dreams
to the cruelty of life devoid
a door got jammed
your parents and their distant lives
-their past is your future-
carrying their never ending childhood
like a message in a bottle
the contraction of days bears you the same
the taste of death is just a habit now
you whisper your dreams to the ragged baby doll -
“Bebe” is here for you
You’re the pain taster
forcing dangerous juxtapositions
or the silent screaming melodies
abundant in misattunement
while mother flashes her cracked smile
on empty days
it might have been better to swallow
while father has a croaked ambition
never to rest
translating his will of power
the promise of tomorrow
left you unscathed
slipping out of time
a neat forehead,
to bear in mind that
light holds on to uncertainty
every time you fall
last mile home is the hardest
her hips sway in Paris
his dreaming hands in Montana
Ashes to ashes and dust to dust
Call this assurance if you must;
But when it's time to say Farewell
To one you love, it's just plain hell.
There are no words, no healing balm,
To fill the void, to ease the calm;
And not a thing that one can say
Will drive the quick hot tears away.
We look upon the empty chair
And seek the one no longer there;
And so heartbreaking is the pain
We question if we'll meet again.
How grim indeed, if death should be
The Bitter End--- Eternity;
Just some vague dream conceived by Man
And not a part of any plan.
But God has taken such great care
To note the sparrow in the air;
His Love alone can cover all
And Mark a simple Sparrows' fall.
And if he cares for the birds that fly,
then he must hear My Anguished cry;
"Dear God, I yield my grief to Thee
For Thou alone can comfort me."
To Everyone who is struggling with Grief