This feeling takes me back
To five year old me
Who found a moon
In the daylight
And thought it was mine alone.


-- Eleanor

Demon
why do you choose me
to chew upon
I was Cinderella once
until you sliced my hair
with the blade
that cut Snow's heart out,
Rapunzel staring blindly
bleeding from your eyes.

Friend, you broke my heart
Unaware that this could be
Friend, I feel alone now
You're looking, yet you can't see

Our memories are rolling down my cheeks
Not knowing what my mind does seek
What good an explanation can it be
When you're looking and you no more see

Friend, you broke my heart
Is somehow there a new start?
I can't see it, I can't see it..
Friend, you broke my heart

Would our memories become just stories
Muttered as in other life
Would our pictures get all dusty
And would they be tucked, out of the sight?

lying in bed
the day cradled by darkness
drifting back through wisps
of who I'd been at thirty
baby suckling my *******
workday weary and money starved
yet proud of a life carved out
in fruit trees and a hammock
swaying beneath pines

such a long streaked memory
I crawl upon hands and knees
through the portal to now
recognizing that every blessing,
every tear stained disappointment
all the years of wiping down
studying, providing, enduring
have proffered this moment
an opportunity
       to step beyond
   the mind's confinement

to risk safety for beauty
anxiety for understanding
   to become again
a child of wonder
sculpting her future
in the clay of stars

-

—                                           /..\
                                              >@<
                                            when
                                       the house is
                                   otherwise empty
                            aside from me, the senses
                   of you seek out the most minuscule
               of things to woof at, a fault line between
             loneliness and apprehension slips a little in
     the path you must take to sniff my hand as it gestures
your tiny pitched notes into the silent end of this open space—

"Come..."
                                         ­   


                                                           ­                                         


"the small dog at the end of a hallway"
© 2010 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved

the greatest poem
lies in front of you
as an empty page

the greatest song
lies in your voice
as a pregnant silence

the greatest artwork
lies in your hands
as a latent talent

the greatest day
lies in your waking
as a potent dawn

the greatest life
lies in you
as a human being