You were always on the edge
of someone's disaster Mikey.
You sailed through days
with no wind.
Swam when the boat tipped,
sailed alone when it didn't.

You needed wings to soar above,
a paddle to stay upright.
You did not trust the water,
the air, the shore, the fire.

You were upside down,
you lost the rope.
you cut loose.

You are nobody's
adventure now.

Not even the rain.

Caroline Shank

I want to learn how to pray.
A simple mind
trusting in a single light
that you can't see with open eyes

I am led in myriad directions by flashes in the haze
Paths lit up for a second
Pale lights illuminating so many words

Where is the single light?
Where is the ground?

I am a hazy figure reaching through walls
I float over the earth and I cannot plunge my fingers into wet soil.
My thoughts are abstract,
I cannot reach into the soil and grasp specifics.

A single light in a single moment, illuminating one place,
And my hands gripping earth

A word that shoots into the heart and rocks you, reverberates in your ribcage

A light that shines not on the path ahead but bursts from my heart to show me I can walk

You see yourself lit up and it illuminates everything.
I have to trust that you can see me,
When I can't see myself and I can't see you.

I have to trust that you are there shooting sounds into my heart,
And I will try to listen.

The truth is, I am not much at all
I love the light refracted
Through the hanging glass.
The avocado plant
Dancing on the windowsill,
The mustard walls.

The tension in my shoulders,
I love that too.
The mahogany table,
Him at the piano.

I reflect it all
I am a node where all this meets.
Little piano tones
Little knots in the stomach.

No regret , no descent of gloomy drop from eyes and no pain in heart for falling for a man dressed in courage.

No shivering in hands for emptying all those love poetries into trash which unknowingly embraced a spineless in the ****.

Flowers of love and trust , though , trampled but I am still a flower who is yet to be wilted !

Somewhere out there in the  imagination:

Roams a smiling fool many called Rose
Who was too fond of living to believe any
of their heavy words carelessly thrown    .

Spending his years traveling through
collected winds and holicly written
predicates onto bank receipt papers        .

Who didn’t need a heritage or a name
to remember to live again among
The scattered rushes and highways        .

and only the trees understood him
And his undying need to grow shapes
and shadows from nothing                        .  

Somewhere out there in the dozens of
breaking lilacs that speak in silence    
lives a smiling fool called Rose               .