Once
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

Once when her kisses were fire incarnate
and left in their imprint bright lipstick, and flame,
when her breath rose and fell over smoldering dunes,
leaving me listlessly sighing her name . . .

Once when her ******* were as pale, as beguiling,
as wan rivers of sand shedding heat like a mist,
when her words would at times softly, mildly rebuke me
all the while as her lips did more wildly insist . . .

Once when the thought of her echoed and whispered
through vast wastelands of need like a Bedouin chant,
I ached for the touch of her lips with such longing
that I vowed all my former vows to recant . . .

Once, only once, something bloomed, of a desiccate seed—
this implausible blossom her wild rains of kisses decreed.

Published by The Lyric, Writer’s Journal, Grassroots Poetry, Tucumcari Literary Journal, Unlikely Stories, Poetry Life & Times. Keywords/Tags: kisses, fire, incarnate, lipstick, dunes, *******, heat, lips, breath, sighs, passion, desire, lust, ***, bachelorhood, recanted

It started with a cough,
  a thousand little teardrops
hung about the air...

then one fell upon another
      and the story doesn't end

there...

For a cough fell upon another,
and another didn't wash his hands.
Then one became more until
a city was on lockdown..

But the world isn't big when we
can descend upon the many lands.
But manners some do not have
     to cover there mouth to wash

now ***** hands..

So now the world is coughing
       finding it hard to breath.
But some never took another
and now there friends and family

weep..

So we have a choice, to stay in.
           to keep ourselves safe.
but not only us, but the
  department of health
and others don't you see.

Who are we fighting for,
                   not just you and me.
For the elderly and those of
   ill health.
For we must be vigilant.
Yes we may get cabin fever,
but its better than being

   dead, don't you see..

Every exhale, a little bit of you leaves me.
Like poison leaving my body.
Every day, it gets a little easier to breathe again.
I don’t know how long I’ve spent holding my breath.
But I feel it.
I feel the air fill my lungs.
I feel myself learn how to breathe again.
To be me again.
At one point I thought you were the air.
It turns out you were the smoke that filled my lungs.

From the womb of Coronavirus,
Comes the birth of a new human with a noble cause, a new purpose, a Renewed vision, and a new mentality, one that:

Listens to cries of the people, and lift their spirits.
Sheds tears over the innocent lives claimed.

Values close family ties, friendship, and recites a wishful prayer to
Alleviate the suffering of distressed souls.

Protects the elderly, takes care of their neighbor, shares meals with the Hungry, and renders services to others, expecting nothing in return.

The birth of a new human,
Who thinks, breathes, speaks and acts with kindness ,
Who’s molded from humility,
With a mind full of reflection, and a
Soft heart encompassed with love!

Hussein Dekmak

What does it take?
To sit in silence

What does it take?
To inhale a breath of love

What does it take?
To hug the universe

What does it take?
To breath out peace to all

What does it take?
To accept this moment,
As it is.

A deep breath
A smile
A single drop of gratitude

All is well and always will be
In Grace Eternal

Breath
When you're broken
And all you see is darkness
Breath
When darkness seems to
Shine brighter in your life
Breath
When you are in sorrow
And your survival rate
Is still low
Breath
When all hope is lost
And no one to save you
Breath

And know this,
Your breathe is your survival
If you stop breathing, you
S
        l
               i
                     d
                             e
To death
Keep On Breathing

There is hope!
There is light!
There is a healing!
There is healing power within each of us.
Remember wholeness of Mind, Body, Spirit,
Breath, Heart, Love and Wisdom.
As we reaffirm with Courage!
Speak to give Comfort!
Move in Compassion
And the Conviction to Live!
May the Angel of Peace
Be with all of us.

Peace, Peace, Peace  
May the Angel of Peace
Be everywhere.

You Were My Death
by Paul Celan
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You were my death;
I could hold you
when everything abandoned me—
even breath.

Paul Celan (1920-1970) was a Romanian Jew who wrote poems in German. He survived the Holocaust, despite the loss of his mother and father, to become one of the major German-language poets of the post–World War II era. His parents' deaths and the horrors of the Holocaust have been called the "defining forces" in Celan's poetry.

Keywords/Tags: Paul Celan, Holocaust poems, Holocaust poetry, Shoah, German, translation, death, breath, abandoned, abandonment, hold, holding, Germany, racism, antisemitism, injustice, brutality, genocide, ethnic cleansing, World War II, world conflicts