"Once you have found it
keep your Voice on you at all times,"
my Uncle told me,
"you never know when you might need it.
Do not entrust it to anyone else -
they won't value it the way that you do.

"And do not leave your Voice
where they can steal it,
but slip it in your inside breast pocket,
close to your quiet heart -
where you can reach for it
at a moment's notice,
and when the moment comes,
you take it out with a steady hand
and you let them see
that your Voice is not lost,
it is not tired,
that it lies ready
that it is willing
to speak truth to power,
to voice comfort to the powerless
and sing in chorus with quieter voices."
And he patted my hand,
"You'll know. You'll know."

Years later,
when I found my Voice
far from where my Uncle had sat,
I knew it was mine
from its familiar shape and weight in my throat,
from the way it resonated
with the call I had suppressed
and the way it chimed
with the voices of those
who chose to stand with me.

And now that I've found it,
I exercise my Voice in song,
I practice it in comfort
and I school it in truth
and I always keep it close
to our quiet hearts
where they cannot steal it from us.

Tell me something interesting.
Make me notice you, and only you.
Make me marvel at how your eyes light up when you laugh.
Glance at me then look away.

Look at me like nothing matters.
Caress my face as if you love me.
Kiss me as if with your last breath.
And dance with me as if with your first.

Tease me with the smell of you.
With implied promises in shadowy corners
Teach me to believe in the magic
Of feeling invulnerable, desirable, and alive.

Light me up with your hands, your tongue, your nervousness
Your awkward confessions and bashful goodbyes.
Your compliments and shared hopes which seem, and are, too good to be true.
Then walk away, and take the sunshine with you.

Not all love stories are long stories.
Even my inner romantic knows that.
But... thank you for making me believe, albeit briefly
That the world remained full of possibilities.

Living on the edge of the knife
Standing still
With nothing to call mine
Where right is wrong
And wrong is right

Hope ends here
Just tremble in fear
Bled dry
With my last breathe
Still standing tall
Cause being myself is all that I can do

the shadow in the light on the wall looks like the shadow of a face I barely recognize at all

you stand so tall as you watch me fall

I find myself in the same place and seeing the same face that I tried to come to ignore

but what for?

what does the W stand for


my 2:00am friend?

left feet touching and yet I am clueless, unsure in what language I should compile the possibilities and

reread my poem and shotgun taken aback

you make my urgency feel so trifling

and I read your are back but you are more gone for,
love’s  misfortune has you, graced,
like a hole in the barbed wire fence,
had bled you dry and let the seeds for
the next planting go astray;
this is comprehended for my fences
are so busted in so many places that
all the animals escaped only to return
at feeding time, their curiosity of the outside world
limited

and W has limited infinite answers

for there are no names that begin with W
for farmers in our native tongues

suspect if you are reading this it must be after 2:00,
indeed it’s 4:07am, and the puzzlement is face flushing,
annoying and curiously intriguing...

and i remain,
“sincerely” yours

L.F. Poet




p.s. thanks for reading my stuff

I can count your name a million times
From fading stars to sunrise
There's nowhere I'd rather be
Under the sun's shining gloom.

If meteorites faded upon the ground
If the moon danced, crumbling down
If the galaxy was safe and sound
Would you stand there with me
Under the sun's shining gloom?

If we sank beneath the sea
If the world's turned upon our reach
If we watched Earth plummet underneath our feet
Would you stand there with me
Under the sun's shining gloom?

Or would we drown below the blue?
Would you pull away, as you do?
Would you pick up the pieces, lathered in glue?
If we stood under the sun, blazing like crystals in the dew
Would we fall apart?
Or is it too soon?