Saturday, May 10, 2003

I’ve missed too many sunrises

Eluded the watercolor remix
of the daily show.
And where are the smooth stones
that once tumbled through my thought?
I would hold one, seated heavily,
solid in my hand.
I would toss it past the green palms
fanning the sky.
I would put my feet in the river;
let the currents pull away
the parts of me that have loosened -
shreds of skin,
teeth and bones.

Instead I breathe into my heart
to ease its pain.
Let pastel light daub the concave relic
where love is sequestered.
And I call upon the dominions
to bring me back into life
on this day I have forsaken.
Place my hands upon the table -
outstretched, empty,
beseeching.


© 2003 Melissa Songer

Monday, May 05, 2003

Sometimes lost

Not knowing I'm lost within
the familiar terrain; masks look the same.
Heels clip on brick paths winding through trees;
the wisteria's nostalgic spice,
sweetly lingering upon the soft air,
brings an intermittent twitter.

The magnolia's habit
- Atlas of trees -
bearing the weight of eternity,
its low-slung branches thickened;
waxy palms flared to shore up fallen hopes.

The green swath flows around me.
One moment a miracle of delight;
the next of nausea.
The wrought iron bench too hard
and cold to endure.
Makes me wonder where
I was just before - and I want to run,
but I don't know where.

So much to contend with
as the gravity of time
pulls flesh from the bone
and scatters it across the ground.
So much to contend with
as children grow to look like us -
our sins becoming theirs.

How I got here
I know well enough -
it's the view ahead that shakes me;
a long cold finger beckoning.
The journey in between strewn with nettles -
the one just after,
impending.


2003 MJS

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