Sadness falls now that you are gone
I thought there would be one more song
Maybe written sometime back
Words: that don’t cut any slack
Life and love and how it ends
Family, flowers, tears and friends
There you are, I remember you
Song in my heart, that’s what I’ll do

Poetry calms the savage beast
That’s what they say, to say the least
My monster rages within myself
It doesn’t answer to anyone else
Not that it does just what I say
It takes over, it always has its way
I keep on raging, it’s only in my mind
Rage against the world, or whatever I can find

He sleeps in the meadows
                       on a pillow made of flowers
Arc-Angel voices are heard
              from afar
A gentle wind
                  blows softly
                             at the nape of His neck.  
               Is he sleeping or dreaming ?
                                I don't know, but I feel Him on my skin.  
He created the world
                      in seven days
His garment is made of sackcloth              and camel hair
The scars in his hands
                    have healed beautifully
from the salve of His father's loving hands....
He sleeps in the meadows
                                      like a warrior King of old
who has just saved the world from a great disaster.  
Holding back floods, earthquakes, gunfires, wars
                                  he leaves behind the scent of flowers
where there once was hunger,
                  people aren't hungry anymore.
He feeds me honey from the shackles of my
                                     fraying soul,
as I fall asleep next to him,
                           soundly,  
                       like a child, who could never ask for more.

in between downward dogs,
my phone buzzes —
again.
and again.

for fifteen whole minutes,
i leave you unread.

you’re drunk, smitten,
with someone i know,
someone you spotted
at a gig.

you send a live-feed
of your spiralling heart,
ask what to say,
if the moment does come.

i tell you to try.
say hi for me.
talk about music,
the crowd, the energy,
the way the incandescence,
blurry but kind,
makes them look soft
in that lavender light.

and you do.
of course you do.
you take a leap of faith,
while i sit here
in silence,
finding a hundred ways
to rehearse what my heart would
but my mouth will never say.