The Shadow of You

Sitting here thinking,
drinking my Black and Tan
contemplating
the stormy motion I see in shadows

*

Yes, it’s dark in there
but, occasionally you can see
different shades of black
mixing with greys
and an undercurrent of blue.
Sometimes, usually when you
least expect it,
a swirling white
(more a ***** white
but it’s lighter than grey)
infuses its movement
in the midst of shadow
making it spin wildly.
And an unruly midnight Moon
beckons briefly within these darker hues.
Its swirl is enticing,
entwining seductively
within the greys and blacks
calling me to enter.
Pulling me like temptation;
like moist needy lips
kissing me into oblivion,
into forever shadow.



I don’t mind, honest.
In fact, I am willing, but...
It is not your shadows I fear.
I love the way your greys swirl;
the way the sway of your hips
dances enticingly with the music of you.
I could live here,
listening forever.



No, it’s my shadows that I fear.
They swirl with storms of black
and I have no control.
They have ancient origins;
they contain seeds that can only
flower in those dark spaces
found between well meaning words
that today finds only loneliness.
My shadows know all too well
the ugliness of traditions,
the hopelessness of poverty,
the emptiness of love.
These shadows have no glimmer of light,
just the motion
of darker shades of night.

*

And yet...
and yet I cannot help but see
the motion of you inside shadows;
see you write your words;
your pen creating a kaleidoscope of greys.
How you weave spaces and allow
for someone to enter your dance;
to lay their head upon your breast
and hear the music of your beating heart.
And yet....

Aztec Warrior  2008