Tis poes raven visited me today
He whispered
( kàw, kàw)
Art thou OK?

I whispered back
( kàw kàw)
Please goeth away)

Cometh again tommorrow,

I'm to hurt today!

Like a kiss upon my cheek
Infusing a tender glow
Graciously revealing which we seek
Harboring the world of
T**ommorrow

Light, dancing wildly
Spectrums of colour, of creation
I look at my reflection
Against the cool glass
my breath staining it like frost
Sometimes I am transparent
like this mirror, like this cold air
and still, I look into myself
the crushing weight of the world
making the glass pulse
and my pulse, shatter
My emotions bleed out onto a wood frame
seeping through and taking shape
Turbulent, uncertain, blazing, brilliant
Is this me?
My inner turmoil made flesh
inside this glass tomb

I am, as I have always been,
On the wrong side of the mirror.

For G.S.L.

Lover:*
Write, we must of the moons we spent
Weaving our alien languages together
Deriving meaning from each other
by what it meant for us
to be home in our shell.

Words we've bound each other with
With histories of our forefathers,
How we delved in the intricacies of the mind
Carefully, and as surely as the waves
Caressing the shores from distant seas.
Coupled with the cresting of the wave,
An ocean's promise lies in wait.

To you I am like the soil that does not empty
Its thirst for answers from the rain.

Yet you cannot give me access to your inner paths
So instead, I have knelt down in silence
and cupped your hermit house to my ear.

You have found speech for words you cannot say.
And I am like the shallow portion of the sea
Where you can clearly observe the rocks and stones
That cut, as well as the coral that thrives
Like fiery corals attracting fish.

We are of different tongues,
Yet despite the separateness
Our strangeness connected us to each other.

You have raised old foundations
And pulled the sea to come to me.
There i knelt on uneven sands
Confident that your own voice
Will lead us to the birthing dawn.

Now it is not just the sea that divides us
but the very same wildness, that impetuosity
that gleamed at dawn, Which led me to you.

Where now is the cradle
for the pearl of the night?
How you have drifted away
I cannot know.

Birthed from sand, Foundations crumble.
Your words are carried away with the rising
Of the tides. Numbing the island in me
Leaving a mark visible only in old maps,
Which sunk the moment you left.

On the very same shore
I found you searching
For what you have lost.

- 13 November 2015

People find it strange
that someone like me
who gets out of breath,
wheezing,
after two flights of stairs
considers the horse
to be her spirit animal.

Ironic though it may be,
isn't it natural
for the somatically lazy
to have a wild soul
that runs free?