i am in a haze today. it is cloudy and beautiful outside. it is also pressing down on my chest and i struggle for air. i wore your shirt to bed last night and it helped steady my oxygen supply. i wish you were here to say my name and speak to me in my native tongue to remind who i am and where i've come from. i'm forgetting everything, slowly. recreating yourself is only good when you haven't done it five thousand times over. i just want to be me now. but how do i become me if there is no you? pick me up from the library and walk me to class. hold my hand and tell me that you will stay with me no matter how grey the sky is or how cold my fingers feel.

i have anxiety
undiagnosed.

sometimes it feels like my head is stuffed with crumpled ***** of paper: the things I never said, the things I should have never said, the things that someone never said to me.

all of these things are written on every piece of paper
there are so many right now that no more would be able to fit
yet i can't stop thinking things, i can't stop saying stupid things, i can't stop wishing things.

i sigh I reach up to my forehead and i grasp my bangs
with my shaky hands and pull

i'm hoping one day when i do this
the top of my head will yank open
all of these crumpled pieces of thoughts
will pour out in a pile
on the floor
i will kneel down
and uncrumple each and every piece
i will read each one
until my head fills up again.

To the Goddess of morn
who made bread from fire
and taught me how to read
to read the wreaths of coffee
into the songs of dawn.

And to the Mason who
showed me how to hammer,
form out of chaos
and cherish the scent of
the cement on grey-green walls.

© LazharBouazzi

the urge to Be compels
realization of landscape
in a soul
landscape made of
faith
lines on a graph made
natural by Love
moving those lines into
infinite
          coherence
infinite
          expansion
in­finite
         depth
an art beyond the known
a Love beyond the known
captured within the
landscape of the wing
and the dancing flight
of the butterfly

how is faith, Faith?

Faith is Constancy
from egg to worm to flighted
being
no matter the changes
Constancy abides within each
remarking the moment when
coherence meets Coherence
when
movement meets Movement
and the egg expands
into the infinite
inevitability --- its
ineluctable moment of Love
when love meets Love
and Is

how is love, Love?

Love is Knowing
from egg to worm to flighted
Being
it is knowing which flow
contains me
which flow is mine to express
and which expression ---
each minute expression ---
has precedence in any moment
and thus I eat
I fulfill myself
until the leaf has been
finished and I am full of
the Knowing to stop ---
to allow the expansion of faith
the expansion of Love
into another coherence
another flow
another containment within
Love
expanded beyond my present
into Presence
into a Being unknown
by any but Love
as Love
each coherence
carried on the wing

the landscape of the butterfly
painted on its wing
by Love


c. 2018 Roberta Compton Rainwater

Where the sunlight splashes through
The barely moving branches of the Magnolia tree
It makes a fascinating pattern on the patio.
Amy Lowell wrote of patterns in a lovely, angry verse
When she was writing about how she hated war.

I bend to trace the patterns with my toe
And focus on the possibilities of now
With monster canons rolling down the boulevards
And goose-step imitators marching by
While in the stands a devilishly evil Buddha smiles.

A zephyr gently stirs the leaves
And all the patterns rearrange again
I look at them with half closed eyes
And I can’t find the symmetry
That I saw just an hour ago.

The Kraken still is held by chains
And though he gushes fire and venom
The patterns on the wall contain him
As he thrashes to replace the sun
With a new one of his own creation.

Amy walked a peaceful garden path
In dappled sunlight long ago
Creating lines that live today.
I trundle down a brick-lined walk
And hope that I will have tomorrow.
                         ljm

i.
breathe your heart words
into my heart’s ear
say it all
my heart is a trunk
to fill
they fall into and
become
treasures
--- your words ---
effervescent with love
never dull
ever soft
forming a me
unknown to all

but you

ii.
I flew into your sky eyes
never to return
refracted by your heart
back to myself
a prism
unknown to all

but you

iii.
move your heart hands
over my heart's body
play the harp of my soul
heartstrings unsounded
until your music
made my heart sing songs
of me
unknown to all

but you


c. 2018 Roberta Compton Rainwater