Like A Dagger

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when he enters your heart like a dagger
there is no painless way out
snatch it out swiftly or gradually extract it
wavering in the ‘how’ of your needing
there is no means to stop the bleeding
*
when she enters your heart like a bullet
there is no where to escape it
lodged in your rib cage or passing straight through
wavering in the convictions of your hoping
but knowing your heart will surely be broken
*
through vacuous hopes and empty promises
and glances brimming with doubt
one day you realize you’ve been living without
and that salty tears between faltering smiles
do nothing to alleviate the daily trials
*
just as those flowers dry..  dying in their vase
that memory soon becomes a mere  trace
of a figment of someone else’s imagination
a fictitious allegory of some wise man’s creation
until one day you yourself
become that dagger upon the shelf
a bullet shot without an aim
and you enter someone else’s heart
in vain. 
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Between a Sigh and a Scream

kiss4She was holding on to a man broken
every gesture made, every word spoken
was a desperate cry from a place so deep
that he can only reach it far in his sleep

she holds him together so the pieces don’t fly away
keeping her balance as he kneels to pray
sometimes he sees her, sometimes he doesn’t
sometimes he lives in his past, sometimes his present

she implored, she beseeched
she tried action, she tried speech
if you cannot love me, let me know
if you will not love me, let me go’

But he holds on, as if holding on for dear life
as if he is drowning and every stroke is in strife
as if she is the only thing keeping him afloat
as if she was every single word he ever wrote

and his eye remains to the shore –
someplace clear but far
it seems within reach yet
more distant than a star

katanamore and more it appears an exercise in futility
finally admitting it is beyond her ability
she drops to her knees, eyes up to the Master
trying to prevent her heart’s impending disaster

the weight is so heavy, so hard to bear
hope only comes in the form of a prayer
with hardship comes ease, promises the Beloved
but try as she might, she cannot rise above it

despairingly close to losing all hope, she implored
her tender hands bleeding from the double-edged sword
would letting go bring relief or a tortuous void?
would her heart remember the previously enjoyed?

~ epilogue:

Then one quiet night upon an angel’s wing
she heard a voice that only an angel can bring
somewhere between a sigh and a scream
somewhere within  a half-awakened dream

She watched him float above the ocean waves
his  feathered wings skimming the waters surface
catching rays of sunlight into pristine prisms
a radiant reflection of blue-green and turquoise

From the edge of clouds,  he finally spoke
and his words became a poem
singing sweetly behind smiling eyes
gracefully gliding over the ocean foam

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I Did Not Tell You

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There was so much I did not say when you said goodbye
Now I wonder if I did, what would have been your reply

I did not tell you that your leaving
was a catastrophe buried in grieving

like the avalanche leaving the mountain slope
destroying all flicker of hope.

I did not tell you of the heart that you ripped asunder,
leaving it to drown in a sea of its own blood,
or of the soul you left in silent wonder
like the silent destruction after the flood.

I did not tell you that I saw an ocean in your eyes,
and that every time you spoke I felt your spirit rise.

I did not tell you of the graceful gait with which you moved about,
and the confidence and assurance that left me with no doubt.

I did not tell you and I never will, some words are to remain unspoken,
but every word I said to you was a promise that remains unbroken.

I did not tell you that I did not know who I was without you,
that every word you spoke was truth and I could never doubt you.

I did not tell you that even now the wind still carries your name,
and every flood of tears I swam through could never kill the flame.

I did not tell you how your arms engulfed me, how much your love surrounds me.
How your mere touch could heal my soul, will forever astound me.

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Wanderers In A Field of Flowers

“Behind the blood-stained curtains of Love, 
there are fields of flowers where lovers wander.

To wander in the fields of flowers, pull the thorns from your heart.”
~ Rumi
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A girl once wandered along a field of flowers, feet bare
Carefree and unafraid of what she might encounter there

She knew the thorns she removed from her staunch heart
were the launching point, from the point of depart

With the promises that come with the freedom of wings
that portend magical Hope and other beautiful things.

She stopped in the midst of flowers abounding
held out her arms to soak in the sun’s rays astounding

Her head raised high, her eyes serenely closed
no more tranquil an image could have been posed.

Soon thereafter, a feather from the heavens fell
suddenly appearing, as if cast from a spell

It gently danced and glided, sought out her hand
as if searching for a warm place to land

A feather of the most vibrant hues
like the flowers; reds, yellows, greens and blues.

No sooner had the feather ended its flight
there followed a most ethereal sight .

It was the most exquisite bird,
and suddenly,
something within the girl’s staunch heart stirred.

On her outstretched hand, the bird gracefully landed,
peered into her soul, her attention it commanded.

Resplendent and fine, its feathers in all those dazzling hues
like the flowers; reds, yellows, greens and blues.

She could not help but caress those fine feathers,
as she stood amidst the irises and the heathers.

The bird sang a melody so sanguine and so sweet
only briefly it lingered in sorrow,
a song reminiscent of times long past,
and a subtle promise of tomorrow.

As the bird then moved to the palm of her hand
its beauty, a stunning mesmerization;
the awareness that it may soon fly away
was a sudden and terrifying realization.

She held it with care, grateful for each moment
treasuring each offering like a gift from a lover
Is your heart here to stay, she wanted to ask,
or does it belong to another?

You are not from this place, she thought to herself
You belong in paradise, your heavenly abode
Are you visiting, dear wanderer? Or lost, searching for home?
Still pursuing a path along your designated road?

How easy it would be to close that hand
hold the exquisite bird there forever..
It would sing to her every day,
A bond that would not sever.

But love is not of a forced possession
In her being, this she knew.
That vibrant light would surely dim
There would be no more vibrant hue

And so she wandered on in the field of flowers,
towards the blazing horizon of the dusking sky.
The majestic bird perched upon her open hand
as it sang the songs of days gone by.

Fear remains, along with many thoughts awoken
they set behind the fiery orange-crimson sun,
they hide behind fragile promises spoken,
and gold-gilded intentions begun.

Twilight descends, infused with the disquiet dark brings
accentuated by the stillness of night..
‘but the morning brings strength to her restless wings*’
and Hope, emerges with the Light.

 

*Jackson Browne