Delicate things

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A frigid breeze is sweeping across the yard.  

It travels in from Canada or somewhere far.

The entire house sighs from the weight of it pushing against the brick.  

I sigh too.  

The North wind is heavy and thick.  

It holds.

I feel it release. 

The fear is different each way.

Tangled up in dreams of yesterday.

I am ready to pack all my delicate things; like

the robin-egg satin blue box with the ring,

and move away.

Its sharp red ribbon unfolds in flight.

The rain is coming.

Lightening blinds my sight.

Clutching the box, deep to my chest

my bare feet breach their dry nest.

The plan is to walk.

And to find where the storms start.

Maybe clean my heart.

When I turn 40

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40 will be declared the, "Decade of Mastery!"

My sassiness will be untamed along with my hair.

I will let curls go unchecked while I twirl in the rain.

Painful scars will no longer guard against the possible joy of each day.

People can talk and feel any which way, 

it won't affect me. 

Mastery.  

The ghosts that have haunted my inner thoughts will be thrown out

I will finally be a friend to me.

Hopes and dreams from childhood will be exchanged for

the result of choices I've made.

I will celebrate them.

Alone I know what I did. 

In solitary confidence I will celebrate.

This body is strong.  

This spirit is too.  

We rejoice its mastery.

I see you now

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I wasn't wise when you first came around.

I gave too much.

Talked a lot.

Blindly feeding you my secrets.

You ate them up. 

Then you rolled over.  

Your cold shoulder was sharp. 

It cleaved through my exposed heart.

Clutching it I held it out to you. 

Exposed and scared about what it meant 

You laughed and made other plans.  

  

Lone moon hung in the sky

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That lone moon hung in the sky.  

Darkness fell all around. 

Grass, tickled by the light wind, gave way.  

I sat there.  

Watching moon beams slice the night.

They didn't touch me.  

Only the single cool breeze sat with me.  

Together we agreed to solidarity.

Love leaves.  

Scratching and pulling like those moonbeams against the grass.

We all have scars when it departs.

The moon shrugged nodding toward the stars.  

The wind and I agreed acknowledging ours. 

Letting go is hard.  

In a single angry puff the wind whipped through the field

chasing his heart.

I look to the moon to feel less alone.

It is too late.

She has pulled a blanket of clouds shielding her face.

Tears fall as abundant as the grass in the field.  

Letting go.  

My soul says...

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Plato said we are one torn into two. 

Searching our entire lives, we look for our other half.  

When we locked eyes, I knew mine was you. 

Slow long drag

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Is this prison real? 

Not until I can see the bars. 

Once I see them though...

Everything changes.  

It always has.  

The prison is real. 

I hunger to be free. 

Reaching between the bars it escapes.

Elusive like a puff of smoke, freedom turns away.

The bars leave a long shadow. 

They drag slowly on my soul. 

Heaviness from their cold lock chill me. 

Till I can get them to let go.

I tug and dig my way through. 

I do it because I love you.

Out stretched hand

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One hand out stretched the other clings tight to the present. 

Wanting to change, reaching out for more...even though it hurts.  

Pelted by the negative "what ifs..." 

I stand reaching and thinking.

Not wanting to let go, 

not wanting to stay, 

stuck in the purgatory of it all. 

How can God give you what you deserve if you cling to the pain you know?

He waits for you to let go. 

A Train Runs

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There is a station that crosses the hill near my house.

The trains run at midnight.  

One blow of the horn, followed by chugging engines.

It sounds like your heart.

The scrape of metal sliding to a distant shore.

Methodic. Heavy.  

I hear your love leaving my bed.

We both accept a sprinkle of days of happiness.

Fear is the moat guarding our "ever after."

We leave it.

The risk seems too much to endure.

The sounds of the train fade.

Burdens on Fire

"It is not the load that breaks you down, it is the way you carry it."  C.S. Lewis

Titled to the left, my knees crackled and popped.

The burdens at one time were sharp, heavy and dark. 

Today, they are softer. 

Or I could be more sober. 

Intoxicating innocence has been torn away. 

Temperance monitors the small child within. 

Chipped away like old paint from a weathered barn,

burdens fall, float away.  

Peeled, they lighten.

Thighs have strengthened from trial, 

can do more. 

Just like my soul.  

I love him

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I want to be in his arms.  

Drunk in his embrace. 

I love him.  

But the air is thinner in his sphere. 

My blood flow is divided.

His gravitational pull won't let me go. 

I don't want out. 

It is warm in there under his care. 

He knows what I need to hear. 

He is there.  

I love him.