We met under a winter’s moon with broken hearts hidden inside down coats zipped up to dare the cold – should it be tempted. ♦ I met you in my dreams once, reaching out to touch your soul while the stars kissed my cheeks. Their light pure and untainted by the darkness surrounding them. ♦
Where do the words go in our dreams? Do they walk the shrouded banks of memory – placed there on faded tombstones to defend centuries of violence and bloodshed. Or do they ride the endless streams instead – searching for unpanned treasure to map for our children, who might also stumble in their dreams. The
Traveling on the afternoon’s s warm breeze, time accedes to a gentler pace – my breath held in anticipation… Their graceful transit infatuating my senses. Older and wiser as the lucky ones are, time has grown patient with its willful charge – young but full of promise, tucked safely within their temporal shells. And –
We’ve been fightin’ for so long, I forget why we started. Goin’ on for way too long. It’s been years since we spoke. You won’t talk to me, and I don’t know why.
We cannot live in fear and hate. We cannot live in a world of fear and hate. We cannot stand by either.
Before the face of love, I’m humbled and rendered whole as it divines my truth.
Bathed in your love, my imperfections washed clean. Before you, my self laid bare. Through you, my self returned. Keepers of this love – our love, my wings grown strong. Wings stretching in anticipation.
In a smoke filled room, her eyes settle on mine, reading the latest scribblings from my soul. What phrase is she weighing so closely? Will she read the bits scrawled outside the margins? What does her smile say? Recognition dawning, her eyes tell a story of love and compassion with the soft whisper of passion, heard only by me. Unknown to
I’m a woman…I’m Irish… I’m Canadian, and you? I’m a man…I’m Hispanic… I’m American, and you? I’m a father…I’m a son… I’m a brother, and you? I’m a mother…I’m a daughter… I’m a sister, and you? I’m neither…I’m undecided… I’ll figure it out, and you? I’m a lawyer…I’m a writer… I’m out of work, and
Your smile Mom, tells me I count. Your smile tells me I matter – telling me what words aspire to say. Words uncalled-for Mom. Your smile enough. Your face now matured, witness to years toiled – unfoiled by age. Laugh lines earned over time, etched deeper than last I saw you. Sharing tears of pride as I wed, walking
“Renée, will you marry me?”… “I can not. My heart once yours, given to another by love’s decree. My heart now belonging to her.” Love in the first degree… A chance encounter or destiny, they sometimes pause to wonder. Maria spotting Renée across a smokey room filled with invisible strangers. Forgetting to exhale, green eyes entreating grey. Unforeseen, fueled by foreign desire, their