An incessant rain
brought everything
to a standstill.

At the moment time stood still,
my sight became
dotted with stars
and got lost in the land
of forty winks.

the crashing waves were an embrace.
my battered body, your glistening eye.
our hearts beat
in time to the rise and fall of the tides.
from this beach,
we look out into the future.
"let's live underwater"
"I will take you where only I know you &
nobody knows our names."

soon after, we were dancing
inside our own universe.
the stars are trembling in anticipation
for every kiss, every caress, and
every touch that we give.

"Take half of my heart.
Wear it like a ring.
This is a promise,
a promise of love that
creation conspired to create."

I wake up.
I wake up to the steady drumming
of the rain on the windows.
I wake up to a night where the
skies empathize with the surge
of feelings.

I wake up to the cries of heaven.

My Father's mother wrote me a check
And though she has a checkbook
with her name on it
From four years ago,
She sent me the decadent sum
of twenty-five dollars
On a slip of paper with a name
that was of her husband,
My Father's Father,
And still is.

When I look at this check pinned to my wall
I am reminded of the man,
The eighteen-wheeling man,
And how a few years ago I was afraid
and unamused
So I did not peek into his open casket.

It was a year since I had seen him,
And 'goodbye' escaped my lips (which were sealed
incredibly) until he was lowered.

I hope he went to heaven; if he did not
I am sure I will say 'hello'
After I cash this check,
But not yet.

A rock . . .
well really the brow of a rock . . .
its heart lay deep and hidden,
but when I lay my cheek against it
in the heat of the summer it cooled
and I could feel the great primeval thump of its heart
comforting me, when nothing else was understood.

I clutched this great rock,
my only constant in a life of changes,
while the earth itself, with me holding on tight,
flew at increasingly careless speeds
throughout my teenage years.

Beneath the arched viaduct it squatted
uncomplaining of the shafts of steel
and the weight of the stone it carried;
my teenage weight, of little importance.
It was always there when I came,
in dream, or even reality
taking the time to be calm and listen
as I told it of my hurts and young confusions.

One Summer, I foreswore all others
and promised it my heart,
if it would only turn it to stone,
and though the Rock it listened,
I knew the answer without us having to speak;
I was being selfish
and it would have given all of its
great and brooding strength
to feel, just a little, of my pain.

                                                      ©Copyright Niall OConnor 2012/2014