Waxing poetic on thoughts, theory & the times
Yellow-faced dandelions push up
Obstinate to the cold that still hangs in air
That promises and serves frost still,
To dew drops and windowpanes,
Spring is here,
In an in-between, limbo of seasons,
Summer and winter, each hedging for the bigger presence,
This is the nature of the season,
Spring—mediator between hot and cold,
Light and dark
On this segment of the wheel of year,
All determined by the closeness
And felt warmth of one star.
I am artwork;
We all are.
We are tattooed and pinned
Adorned, pierced, and sculpted vessels
These forms made to reflect
To show the others
The unique glow that we can each feel
That burns from the core,
That peeks out through eyes
Nose, mouth, pores…
Filtering out the contained light;
For our bodies are but glorious lamps
For the starlight
Our selves,
Our spirits,
Our souls are.
The moon
It tells me I’m not seeing
The whole picture,
Cloaked in shadow,
My fears and uncertainty may be for naught,
I am in the dark without your words,
Without you star,
So I step carefully,
Guided only by the moonlight.
I’m sorry I haven’t made
Time for you,
Time to express
What I still hold to be true,
What I long to tell,
From my heart,
In words I can’t seem to get quite right,
You,
My love,
My darling starlight
And then it’s gone,
The brilliance we held on to
As if it would last forever,
It’s gone,
Not as a fading
But a brilliant explosion that measures up to the luminescence of its blindingly bright short life,
Gone,
Leaving only the dust of what could have been,
And shrapnel of memory.
City sky is foggy
with light and smog,
Stars are sightless,
But I am not,
I peer above the roof tops,
Knowing what I am looking for,
Evidence of the star that kept my way,
And in the city before,
The star that shines ever brighter uncluttered by urban lights,
Unfiltered,
In the rural open,
But here I seek you still,
And gaze,
determined to spy you,
Sure I will,
Here I can see you
Regardless of the forecast,
Not with my eyes,
But by my heart,
My star need not streak across the sky,
To amaze,
It is a star that moves the body
To an emotion,
With its presence,
A star that is literal and figurative,
In the same moment,
A star that reminds of how small we are,
In such a vast cosmology,
A star that reminds how close we really are,
A star that reminds how we are all made out of its dust particles,
A star that burns
over a city sky.
She of Letters 