A Word of Grace (December 2006)

it’s in her style
paths of words streaming
seeming
beaming
their peace upon us all
as we sing out delight
at the voice in our heads
perhaps mouthed in pain
or wreathing
or the simple hurt of breathing
barely there and yet
a final stanza’s set
forgiving all we weren’t

unopened in the eyes of many
sitting all alone
in waiting and impatience
wondering at such
use of passive tense
for not all eyes can see
splendid verbose beauty
but sit here we

gliding fingers highlight text
whose passion rises ours
left only to second-guess
whose life personified
yours or his
hers or mine
ignorant of time
and so it settles
her adorning mind

    

    

Copyright L.M. 2006.

(My sister had a different interpretation for this poem when she read it; she thought it was about the Virgin Mary….. have another read and you might see why she, and I now too, can glean that meaning from it…..)

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Moon Dog Numb

I took solace in the tears the moon gave me
pretending they were for you
it was full tonight and I passed the site
the cruel arena
I couldn’t find a plan so I kept going
and wouldn’t you know? I slept
while my tears dried on my cheeks
while I stood there staring at the moon
yes, I slept,
everything reduced to numbness
all the passion and anger
slept tonight in my pain
reciting my own words and those of ____
just so I can swallow some air
I’ve been breathing dirt for days now
I can’t feel anymore but that’s okay
it’s better than feeling awake
would you settle near me and watch me
so when I choke there’s a reason
since the scene never plays itself out
if it makes any sense at all

may I be removed? I thought I saw a star
I’m sure I did in my eyes
and the long clouds dripping dip through the moon
I watch behind the dead tree
magnificent as the Seven’s and just as achingly cursed

spelling my letters as I read them
I couldn’t find the keys in the scramble
the door was wide open and I walked into it
beginning with my mind
and ending with my feet

I can’t cry for you
I used to be much better
can’t slow my eyes getting wetter
so let me cry for the moon

Finished: 6:20 a.m., Sunday, November 25th, 2007.
Copyright L.M. 2007.

October

the legs are dying
wailing protests to no one and everyone
they know, too
but doesn’t sorrow have its place?
defending pieces of its grace?
it separates
and heeds the barrels’ breaks

touch of gold leaf
borrows a creed for old times’ sake
it falls, too
so when upon our presences falls
the living breathing free-for-all?
the flying, dipping leather ball
it balances
and awaits the final call

      

       

Copyright L.M. 2007.