Words Become Me
Sitting on the edge of day and last rays
She clings to the strings of her paper kite
Tighter in the nooks and crannies she kneels
Not quite loud but still she speaks
At night she counts the stars alight
Matching each twinkle to the shine in her eyes
Her heart is soothed when waves meet shore
No more counting, she quits keeping score.
~SM
Image (c) Heatherlee Chan
This thing
Is mystique, it’s betwixt,
Running up steel-like tabs punching in the temporary permanence of a thing undefined
This thing,
Turned upwards to face the powers beyond the screens and chemistry seeking validity from the most important source
This thing,
Strong, pulsating, driving a conversation – thick, heavy, breaking the concrete foundations that were laid down pre ’embers.
This thing
Gives sight to the unseen thoughts that once heard words that were false but rung true even on clearest nights lit by a full moon, This thing.
Could confuse me, This thing
Could renew me, this thing
Could undo me.
He tends his garden, his price possession
I watch through stained kitchen panes as he moves and turns
Gloved hands pick up a creeping branch and prod it with a stick
Skillfully the soil is turned and its thirst quenched
This plant is done, he moves to the next
I follow his gaze and they land on his roses
As if to comfort them, he silently poses
Intensely observing
I watch still as he traces the path leading to them with his eyes
“Not now” he seems to say. Now is for the shrubs
Leaning down he picks his sack and swings it over his back
A builder’s back, sinewy muscles pulse and flex
Telling a story louder than words could have dared
I don’t enjoy this part of his routine
I prefer to wait till…well he saves the best for last
Turning I look to my own potted mounds
Lined up against my kitchen walls
I shudder to believe they will not green and bloom soon
And if they do? Whose hands will tend them as he does his roses?
Quickly I turn and only just miss his last step into his rose garden
Beautiful is his raw rugged presence amid the delicate reds and yellows
Here he takes off his gloves
Here he feels each petal stem and leaf
Here he crouches low and speaks “coo”
Here he smiles with his eyes
Here he cries
Here his skill is an art
Here his time is not rushed
Here his soul is at peace
Here his stand is at ease
Here his blood drips against thorns
Yet he doesn’t back down against the pain
He prunes, digs, and waters all the same
Here he does his best
I long to see touch feel him
Yet I dare not step on sacred soil
I stand instead in the space between the front door and the back door
Desperately waiting to hear a knock at the front,
Longingly hoping for that crack of light from the back
However, I’m neither torn nor perplexed
I live simply in my comfortable space
Watching, waiting, praying
Till the day my gardener comes.
Prickly heat rousing me from a slumber
Seeping in and hauntingly familiar
If this was a light, it would be amber
Warning me not to step any harder
Blindly, foolishly, the meter goes higher
Crazy, depraved my thirst cuts deeper
Heat, smoldering, hot like lava
My lips, pursed, they stick together
Planned, unplanned, fate took over
Confused, bemused, the game’s played longer
Strategies, tactics, you won’t be the winner
How can you win, when it’s so much bigger?
Two steps closer and I take four back
I’ve walked this route and can stay on track
Hands stretch out and mine stick to my side
Heart opens up and I play the doe eyed child
Don’t think it’s easy, on the surface ready to peel
It’s rooted deep, this feeling that I feel
You wouldn’t understand it, even if I let you near
Overwhelming, crippling, they call it fear.
Dear Sun,
You might find it odd that I’m writing to you today
We were never destined to be bosom buddies, I know
Just to co-exist in a careful balance of ….
I can’t find the words
Would it make sense to you if I told you I was captivated by your fieriness?
Yes, I’m sure people have told you this before
But this is different
You shine so bright, giving of yourself each day, never asking a thing back
Look at me….I’d be invisible without you
I wish I could hold your fire, just for a day, even for a minute
And say I gave you something in return for all that you’ve given me
But since that can’t be
I’ll just stay,
Forever a reflection
Signed,
Moon.
Sun: “Little moon, you’re cute
Going around, believing you’re just chasing your own tail
I wish you would recognize the power in the tides and seasons that you control
On a starry camp night, what would the kids do without you as a guiding light?”
Moon: “But it’s only because of you”
Sun: “Hush! That’s only partly true
Do you know what you’re made of?
So tiny, so small, yet you have the ability to cast darkness on them all”
Moon: “Now you’re just talking bull”
Sun: “Am I?
Do you remember when we met?
I was content to let you be…”
Moon: “That was a long time ago…”
Sun: “You never let me finish
Look at me
Do you remember when we met?
I thought you were the most impetuous little thing
Strangely beautiful beyond all that I’ve ever seen
I was intrigued by your many craters
So I let you come closer, I believed you were harmless
Till the day you fell in step with me
And took my glory from me
So little, yet you blocked me from reaching the world
Time stood still
I thought that was my end
But I made it past you and I’m here today”
Moon: “There must be another way”
Sun: “No, there isn’t
You and I are not meant to be
I’m happy here with the Earth as my focus
And as for you, all you need is a little light
I can be that for you
for as long as you need, I’ll be true”
Moon: “Dear Sun, some day, I’ll make you proud.”
Words By SM 