I am afraid, oh I am so afraid!
The cold black fear is clutching me to-night
As long ago when they would take the light
And leave the little child who would have prayed,
Frozen and sleepless at the thought of death.
My heart that beats too fast will rest too soon;
I shall not know if it be night or noon,—
Yet shall I struggle in the dark for breath?
Will no one fight the Terror for my sake,
The heavy darkness that no dawn will break?
How can they leave me in that dark alone,
Who loved the joy of light and warmth so much,
And thrilled so with the sense of sound and touch,—
How can they shut me underneath a stone?

Another disagreement between us.
Love and Trust.
Which is more important you say?
You fail to realize they are equal as one.
"You can trust a friend and not love them."
But can you be in love with your partner and not trust them??
Another one of my opinions you shot down.
I know for a fact that Love and Trust are as one.
When you broke my trust..
It was only up until it was finally lost for me to fall out of love with you.
Even after I tried so hard to stay.
What is love without trust anyway?

sometimes
i get a glimpse
of words i think i ought to know
from poets i used to read
way back when

i keep running
down dark alleys
chasing shadowy figures
and alluring words

where do the ghosts
of dead poets go
anyway?

Hypnotic days
hypnotic nights
our bodies have burnt
all clothes
and several lives

we are
as hungry as the world
as old
as young

our bodies
two motionless stones
in a mountain river

Ioana Ieronim, from *The Lens of a Flame

Like an alien in a spotlight
With her magnifying glasses on
My mother as she worked, up all night
Did invisible weaving till dawn

I would watch her when I couldn’t sleep
Honing in on that hole in the suit
Intently, her concentration deep
Weaving tiny threads enlarged like jute

In other-worldly light she labored
I was afraid she’d lose her eyesight
Watching her focus never wavered
Her face all aglow in the lamplight

Invisible weaving, I inquired
How tediously she plied her craft
Worked for the money that she required
Made the warp and weft of fabric last

Reconstruction, undetectable
No more burn, or tear, or fabric blight
Weaving magic so incredible
Its wound now perfect by morning’s light

She taught me much that I'm still making
From her life that now I'm grieving
Sewing, crocheting and great baking
But never invisible weaving

The picture of her life that mattered
I now see how she toiled so finely
And that the wrinkles in the fabric
Of my own life splayed out so blindly

The vision of my eyes bedazzled
Incandescent, her face in the beam
Unaware how her mind unraveled
As depression stole her ev'ry dream

The threads of DNA defining
Who I’ve become I'm now believing
My mother’s hand in that designing
Of my own Invisible Weaving

" There is a name of God on every
Child's lips, and the word is
Mother"

    I looked upon her body
That began to leave itself
Suddenly into some stairway
I could not see in my grief.
    
    Mother of the Light,
You took the dawn with you.

The gilded heights that took
You, not the blameless bullet,
But the fleece of flesh you wore,
Now shed to spread your wings,
       Watch over you children's
Children mother of biological blood.
   Cover every atom, every electron,
With your mist that went away in
A flash, your delicate nature be blessed
Hovering over the earth.

    Ceremony of children,
Loving a mother never stops.