Poems and Lovelorn Thoughts, Vol. XXIV

For a Moment

And for a moment,

Everything was softness and stillness

And no in-betweens,

And she felt like this time,

This silken rosy beautiful time,

She had mastered the storm

For good.

Lionheart

You burned like a crust of sad toast,

Screeching scorching charcoal black

Until the whites of your eyes weren’t

White anymore. A frail, knobby-kneed,

Waifish figure of ash that stumbled

When it walked, stepping on itself,

Crumbling down into itself. But you

Were still like sunflowers and cinnamon

And streams of stain-glass light, you

Stood up shaking on your own ashheap

Until the morning made you clean and bright.

And the very bravest part of you was how

You were afraid. That you stood there with

Tears on your cheeks scarred and resplendent,

A thorny rose in a still scared garden, a star that

Foretold its own death but promised life.

Bold as a secret, deathless as

A note in a silent song, brave because

You can

Be what you know you are.  

Self-Portrait

Blue eyes

And a yellow coat

Against a grey sky

On tawny wings.

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