Sometimes the unseen embraces all I know
while my skin burns
from the tears of angels
falling continuously
as they face the darkness of voices
speaking within my heart.  
I get lost inside of my emotions
and find I've become devoted
to screaming winds  
that given precious time
could tear me apart.

I look down at my feet and wonder
if they even remember
where they have run
and if anyone knows of  their regrets
after splashing through the puddles
my passion led them into.  
And it seems
even if I place both feet together
I'm still bound
to face that old mirror
when the stitches of  my life
come unglued.

When lightning strikes the coolest clear
you can see me standing
in my own skin,
not playing with the sky
to get a different song or dance.  
Still, Darkness places his fingers inside me,
encourages me to write,
to respond as if my name is without
life's second chance.

I think of asking why
my eyes relentlessly search
for lost time
through a window
I should have forgotten
before my eyes
even took it in.  
Instead, I leave the view
to face itself
swim into the ocean
I call Serenity,
softly sing my song of peace
once again.

A woman drew herself up from wrecked wood at the bottom of the ocean;
whispered sea-songs into the wistful ear of a long lost love;
shook her locks 'til his heart beat faster;
looked longer than she should into the deep pools of his pleading eyes.

"I will call you when I want to;
I will call you when I want."

Cooled his temples;
breathed her watery breath
as silvered beads streamed down his shocked skin.

                                       .......

Rumors rock an empty drifting boat;
a glazed shell faced with priceless pearl
broken from its moorings,
strangled by a knotted rope.

"You have not chosen me, but I have chosen you"

Hold fast the bestowed gift,
your Quinquireme of stowed treasure.
Protect its precious structure.
"Who are you, the one who stripped my soul?
Who is the third who stole yours?"  

                                          .........

B­roken from netting I lie
a beached starfish on burning sand,
wishing the waves to wash me
back through Time's receding current
to find the silence that once was;
to turn away before the sacrifice,
before the Eye of the storm.



copyright © Caroline Grace 2010

how many bends in all the rivers
how many clouds to fill the sky
idle questions answered never
why do i ask them
know not i

let's go back to basics
i'll punch you in the face
i'll rip out your hair and eyes and teeth and use them as jewelry around my sleeve
oh how much i love you! every part of yourself you've given me! your brown eyes and bleached teeth - you make me look so chic!
i don't care that your veins and enamel and sticky hair styling products are ruining all my long-sleeved clothes
i'd rather wear you now and save my expensive jewelry for more formal and important events -

                                                              ­                                                                 ­      my heart's made of gold

As we travel through the mountains--
our vessel snaking round each mound--
I wonder how we seem to them,
merely ants marching on the ground.
Two by two threading the treed lea.
Man's existence becomes irrelevant.
A leaf on the ground is unique,
yet a forest before decent.
We each are a puzzle piece here
to a jigsaw never complete.

tossing and turning
in that chambered space
between
wakefulness and sleep

exhaustion
moving like molasses
in my veins

no way out