Oct 3 Emily B
Woody

Last night I dreamed
that I opened a box
and inside was another dream.

And I cried like a little child
away from home for the first time,
a boy who’s lost the one
and only true love in his life.

I walked out and reached for the dark
but it drew back like the sea
into its infinite shell.

Beside the night lay the words
for the day to come
and they too were weeping.

Sometimes all I want is to know
that everything will be Ok
when the sun comes up.

Lie to me if you must,
show me a cutout and call it a rose,
I can no longer tell right from wrong
or even if it’s necessary.

I was done listening to the stars
and the sound of the night birds;
it took silence to understand
each other as human.

It got us nowhere
but away from ourselves;
and then, once more dreaming
together again.

  Sep 30 Emily B
Woody

The stones are tumbling
from the mountain river-bed
clear down here to where I stand
on the sandy shore I see,
making a sound
like a high forest crying,
where we once stood together
with what seemed more
than the time needed
just for talking,
you and I, we reached
for one another,
and released each other,
passing parting gifts
two halves of a quartz heart
broken wide, and open
nature's locket
like the part I still carry
heavy handed in my pocket.

  Sep 26 Emily B
r

I should silence
this troublesome whispering
inside my heart

I've already considered
the plain facts
of absence

Falling headlong
into its gorge
too soon

Not knowing who might
drown in their own eyes
night after night

It's not my wish to punish
or pain another soul
beyond my own.

  Sep 22 Emily B
Woody

I've  passed through the last
winding turn in the dunes
before this vast curious body.

I keep seeing the shore rising
with the foam that is our present tense
knowing there's nothing after this.

I am like the watchman, propped
in the tower as the light bends
and stills against that brief shadow
of me and whatever will be, well...

And who was it that said people
learn from their own stupidity?
Just accept the storm and be one with it,
or fight like hell to get to a safer shore.

But hope is a fickle thing,
so I try to encase the sensation
that the moon is riding high
asking me to come join it
on its laughter of light.

North Tops'l Island, September 2017.
Emily B Sep 4

Spent the afternoon
In bed
On my regular
Scheduled
Day off.

Kept dreaming
That people
Were trying to
Kill me.

My folks
Are saying
I don't look good.

Maybe tomorrow
Will be better

  Sep 3 Emily B
Jay

i know
the idea of you
is pointless

nevertheless
today
i dream of you
like i tend to do

in that valley
where i left your kiss
hanging in the air

i could feel you waiting
for a change of heart in me

my heart never changed
it still beats with the same
ambiguous beats

i cannot remember
our night time talks
and forget our burned down silence

all the same i try

tingling agony
desperate for your gaze

i cannot shake you off

longing for your absence
to pass

Emily B Sep 1

when I began to write
poetry
all those years ago

I was amazed to find
that I even
had a voice.

It was a gift
that I never
hoped for.

I only shared light.

There is too much
darkness.

And then
little by little
I had to write
about the monsters
in the deep.

And my writing
got to be
unrecognizable.

Those couldn't be
my words.

Don't bury me
in a grave
in a big old box
I've known too much
darkness.

And so here I am
trying to balance
injury
with hope for a new future

That may be called
healing.

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