Cutting ropes
and
Breaking ties
So to survive;
Those who do not
See your hidden
Saint
Will only hate
You
For bearing It—
They live
In a constant
Blinding fear,
and
Always spite
And ostracize
Their few
Neglected Kin—
Rare Souls
Tragically favored
By the Heavens.
Here they stay, after all has retreated from the vanities of wakefulness. Quiet, mysterious, and solemn—a reality to their own.
I cannot
Be a Watcher
and
A Doer
All at once.
My love
Does not forget,
And remains
Unlike the beasts
Of Burden
That surround
You.
Some Nights
What is there to hold
Unwillingness to claim us.
I am so very
Glad
To have
Heard the echoing
Chimes of
You—
Permeating
My waking thoughts,
And lulling me
Daily into
Pacified sleep.
Are you
Shaking your head,
Deeming me
No more
An easily seduced
Fool?
I am simply
Grateful
To have known
The very existence
Of you,
Teaching me
In your absence,
The liberating rescue
Of the unselfish
Kind of love—
To cradle it gently,
And not suffocate its
Divine flame
In a possessing grip.
“It is a mistake to look too far ahead. Only one link of the chain of destiny can be handled at a time.”
—Winston Churchill.
The Northwestern lands of Somewhere, sometime.
Oh Love,
My summer muse
And blooming desire,
How I have longed
For you,
And placed my
Naked heart
Under
This simmering Sun—
So much so,
That the ruthless
Heat has wrought it
Wrinkled,
Barren,
And Hard.
Sick
To death
Of my nonchalant
Toughness;
Of concealing
What hurts
With a shrug,
Saying “there’s more where I come from,”
Shoving the shouts
And tears
Into back pockets
Until they are bulging
At the seams.
Emptiness is eating away
The best of yours truly;
Someone please
Spare your
Tenderness—
Bring me back to life
With your calming
Touch and Kindness.
“Black is the truth
Of my situation,
And for those
Of my station
In life.
All other colors lie. ”
—Suzanne Vega.
Particular Moments 