Aria

The sadness,
goes down as deep as her bones.
Oh, she clothes it well, with optimistic flesh,
joyful tendons and beautiful skin.
But in the quiet times,
she hears it singing.

When Darkness Come Again . . .

Spread your whispering story.

Those glittering shards that sing
of instinct and fine urges.

Scatter some of your charm
upon this ashen soul.

Scald me with your joy.

Let me steal from you
the knack of carrying light.

So that when the darkness comes again,
to pour its inky stains and crush my violet hope.

I can shout out to my sisters

and with their hair streaming
and wild voices splitting the air.

They will coming running.

Whooping and hollering
and dancing in circles.

Until all of the shadows are gone.

These Broken Words

With these broken words,
I try to cobble together
a structure. - A bridge
that is strong enough
to hold the weight
of all the beauty
that I see.

In the open spaces
between what is known,
and what is not.
I wander.
And like a sponge,
I soak in the essence
- absorb the goodness.

But when I try to tell.
To share the contents
of this overflowing cup.
The words cannot hold it.
They lay in silent shards,
scattered and broken
about my feet.

Lost For Words

When the words don't come
I look for them.

I shine a torch into dark corners,
- dig down into the silt.

Looking for letters that have fallen
from my mouth as I was speaking.

And there, half buried in the sludge
I find them.

Carefully I dig out each one.

Only to discover that they
spell out one word. . .

W R I T E

I am life moving

I am life, moving
flowing
like breath
like rivers
like rain

I am life, moving
In my perceptions
my feelings
my thoughts

I am life, moving
growing
like a tree
a wild love
a child

I am life, moving
in tender moments
in grief
and
in joy

I am life, moving