The Sight

There are daysI yearn for the languageto put all that speaks to mebefore the world.I dig into myselflooking for some gift of words like soilto nourish the things unfurling inand aroundus all,the spaces betweenwhere relationship is written. Instead,I find ash,and the gentle invitation of a heart firefed by all that remainsyet unnamedwithin me.Perhaps it is … Continue reading The Sight

Traceries

I sit beside the me that is youholding hands, holding our grief, I say,as you look back at us, those years like a wasteland,I say, “This is our fertile ground,this is our watershedflowing into mighty being, confluencepoints in the journey.”My heart marvels at the way our broken piecesrefract the beauty in these stark-edged, sharp-eyedraptor placeswhere … Continue reading Traceries

Poetry

Spokenfreely, givingvoice in the silenced placewhere into darkness roots what isneedful,a term undefined by all butthe living of what mayresound trulywithin. (I'm starting to try to learn about different poetry forms. This is a mirror cinquain. A regular cinquain is 5 unrhymed lines with a syllable pattern of 2, 4, 6, 8, 2 so a … Continue reading Poetry

May My Feet Walk the Path

There are two storiesweaving through metwisting sinewsalready taut with pain and panic.I am bereft, adrift,choking on lonelinessand all that is unspoken. Time seems a torment, myself a prisoner within itand there is a peace in naming it.I have no words of beauty or wisdom,nothing of value to give. Still, there is richness here;joy and sorrow … Continue reading May My Feet Walk the Path

Given Voice

I visit that secluded poolSettle into silence there, feet cooled by mossy outgrowths of meaningCaressed by deep currentsReflectingWords weave into lifeStories darting silvered just beneath awarenessFlashes catching the eye, jewel brightEnticingThere is no room for striving hereNo net nor reel can draw in what catches youHeld, holding a welling of those same word-watersNourishedGiven voice

Lavender and Honey

The world turns to smoke, and I,a ghost within it,coat my tongue in heavy honeywith each inhale, savoring,savoring,as the breeze flows through, a-calling.Do you know it,that simple hunger of living?Unfurl and be fed. The Cumberland River, seen from Rolling Mill Hill. Photos taken by author 6/13/2021.

Away

The heart sees in it's own rhythmsYou have to learn to listen to the way your flesh prickles in warning, in anticipationTo the subtle difference between desire and fear as they run up your spine, speaking through each otherPierced, sweetly speared by sudden stillness, now a cup, a fulcrum, a falling into beingYou have to … Continue reading Away