My love is a current, steady and true (a sonnet)

Were you to pass a thousand years drifting
In memories doubly drenched in sorrow,
You would find me pacing the shore waiting
To welcome you home, life's new tomorrow.
Within this land of love's patient slumber,
I will cradle your tender, worried heart
'Til time allows you to disremember
The burdens of grief which set you apart.
Then bring your ship sailing straight home to me;
I am forever your warm water port.
I've sent sweet scented streams out to your sea,
Now awaken to my gentle escort.
My love is a current, steady and true
I am your safe harbor; I wait for you.

Saturation

I chase words and phrases
round and round inside my head.
My thoughts slide.
They are soft butter on a hot knife.

Dripping from the blade,
they slip, without pretense,
into my waiting hand.

I cup these thoughts in my palm,
and pour my melted butter words
onto your paper heart.


--bruised orange

splinter

jammed under my nail is the pain of you
with blood that cannot flow (from a wound that cannot bleed)
my finger in my mouth, i try to suck you out,
tiny flaw that flashes white hot in my skull.

the carrion of your memory has left an imprint impossible to erase.
i would cut off my hand to be free of you,
but too late, your poison courses through my veins,
your pith of pain absorbed,
rooted forever in my bones, my splintered soul.


--bruised orange

on depression, and the repressed desire to stay connected -- how gray is this wall

The words of encouragement which you write
are a whispered song behind a wall so tall and wide, so tall and wide.

I see you through a fog, thick and dense. This place of isolation,
this bubble of unfeeling, is not my permanent residence.

(I tell myself this, with the sincere pat on the back)

I hold a knife to my own throat, I choke.

Oh, I've got something to share, believe you me.
(I laugh, as the words slip out my mouth, slide to the floor)

What a joke!

Just tell me this, how do you save yourself when the hole you've dug
is so comfortable and warm, and the wall so tall and wide, so tall and wide?


--bruised orange

fear and longing at river's edge

i stood apart under the weeping willow and looked out across this river of separation.
there you were, on the other side, lost in your own contemplation.

the wounding arrows of your youth held you fast to your bank,
and i cried alone, in the shadows of my yesterday.

weren't you always there on the other side wanting me to cross over to you?
and wasn't i always here on these banks, waiting to hear your call?


had we plunged bravely into the swirling eddies of these dark waters,
we would have found the safe passage of our journey,
the warm current of belonging to one another.


--bruised orange

i withdraw my application, my heart was never in it anyway

the joyful dancer of my youth
prances about my room, whispering
truths to my all but deafened ears.

'go away,' i respond. 'you belong to a time
i am no longer a part of.'


she takes my hand, but the skeleton of
my existence pulls away from her.

'did you think it would be so easy to get
me out to the dance floor again?'


i am a stubborn woman,
lost to the steps of dancing ways.

no, i choose now to sit here and watch.
the tango of life dances, her fluid body
pouring itself across the floor.

i am a poet, you see, and i set myself
here on these sidelines because observation
and reflection are the only things that keep my
heart beating.

participation? she speaks a language too foreign
to my ears for comprehension.


--bruised orange