Closed,
there is twilight,
and my hand is held tight,
the moon sings a lullaby
and there is a scent of promise
heavy as the air.

Open,
there is brilliance
but my palm is held open
the wind is missing
and the sound of music
comes to an end.

And I blink,
once, twice
to the ever changing
afterlife.

in the middle of the night,
at the dullest hour of the day
when i am restless,
and lazy,
and ambling out
my mind cast away,
in the middle of the ride
on my bus in eventide,
when my rage falters
and parries
with the wisdom
of my sage,
until the sky changes color
and shadows change shape,
when caught in the cold
of the lost and the unknown,
when watching birds twitter
and fly to back love home,
in the middle of a book,
after a sweet song,
when dancing to a tune
or making my face frown,
I only need to think of you
to keep going my way,
hoping against hope,
I will meet you,
someday.

I'm writing in circles
my mind pliant
to ridiculous words
that choose to course
down any lane
in my brain
and I type constantly
and click on Backspace
defiant to relearn
the art of writing
poetry.

But it not my brain
that fails
but something within me
that refuses to place
itself where it should be
so that I can feel things right
and not keep up restlessly
flailing my figurative limbs
looking around for inspiration

wanting to write,
poetry.

Stymied
by the crosses I wore
on my back
while I tried
to wade past
bright lights.
It got notice,
and I remembered
the battles
all over again,
but I got stymied
because,
this was my chance
to move on
to the other end.

bludgeoned to believe
in ever after stories
by the endless yarn of lies
I wear in pride,
eyes shining in glee
wondering...
when does the mirror break
and the witch call an end
to my dark fairy tale?
I shall referee,
just to gainsay, I'm afraid,
that I continue
to leap
from ledges.
And flee.

After countless prayers
and endless wish lists
I have a spot light
on the center stage,
but I am left
with broken slippers
that gave away
while I climbed
the creaking stairway.
I broke a heel,
to twist my ankle
and grimace in pain,
to only shed a tear
and cast a smear
on my face,
to count the steps
I still needed to climb
to find my place,
but ended up counting
the endless mistakes
I have made
on my way.

She stared back at me,
with a sneer and asked,
"Did you really think
that was you,
in the looking glass?
Those wild curls so lush,
and brows archly brushed
a nose so fine,
a quality it possessed!
The grace that she spent
in every silken way she went
it left woman of the old gaping
and the young men,
breathless.
And you with your spots,
with a nose, such a blot!
Hair that is smitten
to the wind as aimless!
Limbs so undefined,
nary a skirt I can find,
that would hide those wide hips
and body - shapeless!"

And then I took a bow
before a man and
couldn't fathom how
his presence I could digest
I was repelled so - by him.
But the looking glass wasn't far,
at every turn I saw a mar
and gave up my choice
to see
...
into a looking glass.