Monday, July 12, 2010

Release

 1. i awake
to silence.
 
my blanket
of words
falls open
 
how much can a heart expand
before it contracts?
 
2. lost in space
i climb your words
to safety
but it is the spaces
between our shared memory
that helps me release
into the unknown
a soft warm blanket
woven from past tenderness
streaming behind me.
 
3. five years together
you did not call tonight
and i awake
to an unfamiliar landscape
no longer sure
of what i know.
 
4. my heart
is a dog
waiting for its owner.
i will take her outside
to howl her fierceness
back from the moon.




i stand on the edge
of a balcony
beneath me
trembles a tree
its joyful vulnerability
reminding me
of what is found.
 
my heart smells
loss approaching
it turns around and sighs
searching for the warmth
we used to know.
 
we buried our love
under the oak tree
its for the best
they said
not strong enough
to be born.
 
in my hand
i hold a key.
shall I lock my heart
or keep it open?
 
gently my grief
unfolds me.
into this new space
falls
a leaf
a coin
and the feather of a crane.


usually
when words turn their backs
on me
i go blank.

but not today.

today i lean my back
against theirs
and i listen
until
their wordless cry
reflect
my own need to know.


my ideal kisses reality

confusion explodes
into my womb
i push and strain
until tired
i cry out
releasing new life
into the silence.