Her heart beat at each crossroad
and her breathing demanded her not to slow
so she dosed herself with the signs and senses
and let the blood flow to deep crevices


Decisions, not an answer she could steal
From Everything, her gift was not to feel
But empty, oh empty brought pain
It was narcotic, keeping so many sane


Everything, Compelling Everything;
thought you had a way for me
Right under your nose, I fill my senses to the brink;
making me feel just so beautifully

Everything, Oh Everything,
how could you possibly see?
I love the way you keep on laughing
at us for breathing our own fatality

How long have you sat there,
With your hands folded into your lap?

Or are you even a painting,
Maybe just a statue of marble and glass?

Painting a statue could be considered a crime,
In a way, plagiarism  
Whereas chasing after a thief of natural beauty,
Would be worth more of the time

Such a cruel trick to play- stealing such a gift
From someone who had received it
From the best sender yet
If the thief thought that the victim should prove herself
How wrong he would have been
If she had not been worthy or ready
It would not have been sent

My grandfather’s house
Was extremely far away
In memory and physical distance
Yet I still remember everything to this day

I was small, and the pebbles beside his path
Had seemed at the time fairly large
And the weather- so windy and cool
The beach had always ensured

The piano that stands near my living room now
Was the same one standing in his
It was the one on which I learned how
To play and read the notes written in dark ink
So perfectly varnished before
My grandmother’s piano, then his

I will especially remember,
His love for pistachios
And how I could not open them, not ever
I don’t think I loved them as much as he did
But I will love him forever

The last time I saw him
I realize now I had never seen someone
At so much peace
My pistachio-loving grandfather
Someone to never forget

254

“Hope” is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—

I’ve heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me.

I am but a rose of beginning green,*
imprisoned to darkness all day,
within a monumental fiend,
who covers up the radiance that I want to give away

Occasionally a small opening would be sewn
into the darkness' fiery grasp
and your pure radiance could be shown
concealed in a kindhearted mask

Share your light with me
and for you I will light the way
wrapped in an unfamiliar livery
prepared for our intimacy till the end of our days

We will cross waters on a homebound stretch
and become fuel for our endurance,
so beautifully etched

I'll take my chances, following the sun
the garden we grow
means that together, we are one

Share your light with me,
and forever I will stay.
my petals can become your livery
we need each other, I daresay.

Somebody bundled
it into a clock
and slung it up high on a wall,

with numbers
like bars between us,
where there had been nothing before;

before,
my days had come open,
open and endless like sky,

but boxed on the wall
there looked no room for all
of the rest of my lifetime and I.