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Sarah Margaret Sep 2012
A light 
At the end of the tunnel
Leads to salvation
Or so they say.

If only motion
Could be as easily halted
As it is begun.

The train
As she forges onward.
Whistle-blowing steam
Pressing blindly
Through the heat,
And the darkness

Behind her.
Before her. 

And what of our love?
Inferno's tinder.
Coals crafted in
Sublunary sentiment
Solid. 
As the product 
Of a century's pressure.
Of a century's decay.

Beneath her.
Within her.
Above her.

Our ignited passions ahead,
Distant and unattainable.
Joy and deliverance
As determined
Solely
By the absence of darkness.

Despite her.

If only motion
Could be as easily halted
As it is begun.

I'll choose never to believe
That it is salvation
Alight
At the end of the tunnel.
Sarah Margaret Aug 2012
I must first explain my skin.

As an *****.

Living.
Breathing.
In its own shadow.

The hairs upon which
Collapse
Beneath the weight
Of the passing breeze.

The pores
Sunken in,
So very much
Like the pores
Of the soil,
And the caverns
Of the earth.

The oils
That, so keenly,
Prevent the waters
Of my sorrow
From seeping too far in
As to affect my function.

The skin,
Which otherwise -
So permeable,
So pliable,
Houses these
Life-giving matters,

Contains the beat of my heart,
The fluid of my existence,
The breath in my lungs
As a cyclical gift -

Acts as
The open cell
For my soul.

And we must remember
That something
So fragile,
So accessible,
Contains the soul.

That the soul,
As the skin,
Can be soiled,
Can be replenished.

Can live.
Can die.

Yet,
Left ignored,
The soul
Will still

Live.
Breathe.
In its own shadow.
For Aristotle?
Still a work in progress.
Sarah Margaret Aug 2012
Twenty-four year
Car ride home.
Empty nest.
Hearts still full?
Leaving for college tomorrow.
Sarah Margaret Aug 2012
Heart in heart conjoined.
A life and love
Conceived amongst
The thistles of fantasy.

I’ve found a rose
Destined to become
Its thorn.

I’ve found a lily
Alone
In the driest of valleys.

Kiss me,
And my lips
Will wither with wanting.

Petals
Fallen seedless to the earth.
And yet,

I love you.
Sarah Margaret Aug 2012
I feel sick.
The taste of cigarettes
In ash-colored air -

The two are non-sequential.

Cigarettes taste like home.
The good part of home.

The part of home
That silences my mother’s mouth;
Preventing the vices of its tongue
And the stresses that cause them.

Over generation.
Over generation.

You are your mother.

A compilation of love
Forced by proved masculinity
In your open cavities.

And my father said...
Well -
He didn’t.

Words failed him,
As he failed us.

Silence and cigarettes.

Over generation.
Over generation.
Sarah Margaret Aug 2012
I heard life’s vapors
Whistle in minor keys
I felt the darkness shudder
In your dreams.

Love of mine rekindled and lost.
Hand in hand
Pressed beneath solid stone.
Were you ever my own?

Or had life forsaken you,
As love has forsaken me?
******
In the fourth degree.
Sarah Margaret Aug 2012
Mother Mother,
I heard the sound of your voice
Cradled in the warmth
Of your warmth.
The ocean waves
Formed my memory,
Created the beat of my heart.

Mother mother,
A joy in the light.
Hand held to shaking feet,
Feet held to earth ,
Earth held to possibility.
A gift  
Through open doors.

Mother mother,
A book of truth.
The letters outlined
By curiosity.
The words tied
In anxious tongue.
Inquiring minds want to know
What is love?
What is life?

Mother mother,
A playmate
For golden days.
Castles made in nothing
Less permanent than sand.
A cyclical motion
From end to end
In happiness.

Mother mother,
I have betrayed you
For foolishness kept
In envy of mystery.
A diamond
In pauper’s hands.
A soul unbounded
By reason
In the darkest hour
Of my abyss.

Mother mother,
I will return to you -
Forsake me not.
Love bereft of condition,
Love in the steps of a child.
Cradle to earth,
Earth to the heavens,
Carried on the love of
Mother mother.
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