I am content
with thy firmament
In silence I hold my lament
My fear is my strength
it unfolds to earths length
Beyond what my eyes may see
I lay my trusty words upon thee
Home is far from blinded sight
A life hidden in a darkened night
There we fell into closeness
An abundance of things to confess
In simple wholesomeness we linger
Til I can reach thy lips with my finger

I am content
with thy firmament
the same one it will be
when we look up we'll see

She never minded the scars I carved.
She'd beg me for more, and as her wrists were tied in knots.
I'd make sure another night was never forgot.
Sure, she'd struggle, much as any of us must.
But she was lurching toward me wild and bewildered such.

She would calm as I tended wound and her panting
below became a parting of bloom. Springtime crept
in like a slow, low light on a horizon only meant
to be seen by us two.

Her struggle turned to sound and her mouth stuffed still.
Her lids heavy hiding stained glass eye windowed sill.
Her knees buckled with belt tied firm to keep her tight.
Her smile crept wide as tongue wetted what kept words inside.

Her drool ran and stained our sheets,
her eyes filled with tears which ran down cheeks.
Pleasing pleadings strung out by Morse code taps of her feet.
She was more than a canvas,
she became my tapestry.

My name is not one that is so easily forgotten. I’ve met faces
who shake my hand and admit that my name has a familiar ring. It
will wrap itself around your tongue,
take shelter in the grooves of your brain,
etch itself into your flesh,
and make a drumbeat of your pounding heart.

I am the red flowers that bloom in the Western Cape.
I am the violet quartz, the precious gemstone,
and I may be worn around your finger or wrapped around your
neck if the month of lovers breathed life into your lungs.

I am rooted in the grounds of Israel.
I was promised by God in the Hebrew tongue.
My blood is spread over the Middle East,
my complexion is of light-bathed soil,
and I am a unity of scattered heritage.

You cannot forget me, no matter how you may try.
I am cradled in the back of your mind.
I live in shades of red, from flowers to blood.
I live in shades of purple, from gemstones to sunsets.
I am the embodiment of love,
and I linger in every inch of this Earth.

This world delights you,
but you may not love him.
For when he leave
the truth cling to you.

And lead you
to do things
and thunder from
the ******'s womb
might not linger
so that he stays.

Eclipses of what was draped,
             woven on me like entombed
shadows that never feared luminosity.
          
Within I was a contradiction
                   that was rising on
                        every morning.


But I was nothing,
                   but what was a raven on white.

What kind of exhaustion is this?
The one that lingers under the creases of your eyes
Heavying body-cells to your bed
And yet being unable to slip into sleep.