Poems

It will all be okay in the end.
I believe in reason and strength.
I believe in fable and fairytale
and I believe in you.

Hey, you, I’m restless tonight and I want to run,
But so many obligations keep me here.
My skin is like a heavy, wet jacket,
I want to shrug it off and streak in the rain.
But there’s a crowd around, so I slink back and refrain.

And the poets of this age, they say the dark is uninhabited.
They sing about the beauty of being alone.
But when I run through the dark, I can feel your arms around me.
I can hear your voice calling me home.

The rain comes down.
It blesses the dirt and the corn.
The wild cats drink it from puddles.
The maple takes it all in and grows exponentially,
Deepening her roots and spreading her arms.
If we all died tomorrow and stopped holding her in check
Her slow, persistent growth would take down all these human structures.
She would rule over them all.
Now to the harlequin beetle, the drop of rain is a looking glass.
She can touch it and behold her beauty, but it never bursts.
And they say that all these things grew in response to the rain,
That they love the rain because it first loved them.
Now I think that they were made to be loved, that the rain is a gift to them,
But I don’t give a shit which came first,
The gift or the giver,
The fact that they have each other is enough for me.

The poets of this age, they don’t believe,
That we have anyone but ourselves to be grateful to.
So they love themselves and do their honest best to love each other, too.
But I believe in someone else,
That I am not alone in the dark.
That even if my mate and my children,
My mother, my father, my hundred siblings,
All the wide family that has gathered me in, deepened my roots like those of the maple,
Even if they all disappeared tomorrow, I would not be alone, trembling in the dark.
I would eat the wild corn that grew up in fields.
There would be tangles instead of aisles, but the fruit would still be good to eat.
I would share my fruit with the wild cats, and they would come to nuzzle against my hand.
The beetle, she would be my muse.
And the rain would be your arms around me.
We’d run naked and free through the velvet dark.

I believe in you.
I believe in every fairy tale there is a reason,
And every fable is a true story of strength.
And it will all be okay in the end.

on dark midnights
they say he rises
a summer flight
full of surprises

swooping low
and rising high
rushing up
to touch the sky

breath of flame
and scales of blue
i can fly
as fast as you

dip and soar
and touch the moon
the summer sun
comes all too soon

One Dark Midnight
he’ll come for me
i’m still waiting
but you will see

One Dark Midnight
come for me
through the cavern
over the sea

One Dark Midnight
black by blue
we’ll soar away
me and you

I once thought love was infinite, and days could never end,
But now it’s night and you’re content to call me just a friend.
My rage and passion faded, like the sunset from the skies.
The twilight drear has come and gone, like tears gone from my eyes.

I know this trembling stillness means the dawn is far away,
And purple night is nothing like the periwink of day,
But deep within my darkened heart, a memory glad and bright,
Emerges like a single star upon the face of night.

she sits, resting peacefully on the couch;
he’s in the other room, bent over a desk.
she’s looking back over the years.
she finds nothing lacking.

her skin is leathery and wrinkled;
though once it was fine and smooth.
she was once a true beauty.
her eyes are as bright as ever.

her bright brown eyes dancing, lit up with a hidden light;
cheeks warming at the fire of remembered passions.
she held the world in smooth brown hands.
now rough and calloused and ready for sleep.

in the back of her mind are darker memories;
bitterness, jealousy, mistrust, loneliness and longing.
smoothed over by forgiveness and time.
covered over by abiding love.

she hears him shuffling in the study, mumbling;
deep thoughts from a heavy book troubling him.
he was always after seeking knowledge.
but there was always time for loving her.

she coughs, a dry hack bending her frail frame;
he runs in and places his hand on her forehead.
he looks at her with love that never died.
she looks back up at him and smiles.

that look passes between them, that look…
the look that made her fall in love.
once it held promises of joy to come.
now it holds warm memories, so many.

she coughs; with concern, he sits down;
takes her smaller, roughened hand in his own.
he smooths it tenderly –
sweet hand that smoothed away his pain.
sweet hand that rocked the cradles of his children.
sweet hand that worked and loved and played
with fingers locked in his.

a soft shudder and a quiet, shallow breath;
a long look and a word that dies on the tip of her tongue.
she lived long and happy with nothing lacking.

but he’s left to die alone.

We move like the chase of day and night,
I the dark and you the light.
Each follows in the other’s path.
One to cry and one to laugh,

One for night and one for day.
Don’t listen when the strangers say,
“This love, too, will pass away.”
I stand beside you, come what may.