I confess
it was the love of you
gave me breath
wound around middle finger
flax and straw
plucked from those nearest to sky
a pinch of light
holding lantern against sheltered corners
of myself not recognized
you were dressed in color and feeling
bequeathing underfoot a trail
of sound and touch
caught in memory
your pulse pressed against
my own frigid skin
repelling life so long … forgetful of how
to shed her jade for opacity
when it is too much I reach for
the song of you playing within my hollows
like a scoop of earth will
leave room for planting
you scatter your faith
rows of hope
to take root and turn my emptiness
lavender and mustard
fields stretching out
One glory two uses
anoint this paradox
defying gray
I see a figure in the distance
running to catch up with you
clasping hands they
take off their shoes
soft is the ground beneath their
it is my darling
the story of

0 Replies to “The story of us”

  1. “Holding lantern against the sheltered corners of myself not recognized “. Thank you for sharing your gifts. This is a vivid and a true definition of therapy. Intentions or not, some choose to look while others choose to look away.

    1. Dearest Rick I meant to write back earlier but have been swamped I will though in a while I promise not forgotten. I hope you are doing okay please know I’m thinking of you. Meanwhile I hope she had a good time even without you, and that you are resting. Remind me to tell you what I found about about Jade.

    1. Every time I DARE write something with earth and nature in it, I can see you and hear what you might think and it either stays my hand or encourages it. You are quite a presence both literal and figurative, this being a very good thing

        1. You very much did. Today’s offering of the story of your grandmother, inspired me to write more too – you always do. I think some writers we read just do (not many though) because something about their work connects deeply with us. I can’t even say what it is – preference I suppose like picking a favorite song. Well you did like Bowie πŸ˜‰

  2. This is another extraordinary example of your talents but mostly your soul, the fragrance you leave in other’s souls, your fragrance will never leave mine or other’s lives ..

    1. C, I love you. Thank you. And sorry to worry you this weekend, I came out of the big dipper into the little dipper, but it was still not enough to get my words out of my ass it seems πŸ˜‰ what say we try some time this week? I hope you’re safe, it’s raining cats and dogs over here – big hug my brother

    1. Very true – there is no ‘us’ if there is no trust. So often what people perceive as trust is a bag of bones, loosely held together. It is necessary for greater connection for this thing called trust to be sincere and not just a five word lullaby. I don’t know how it works, in the world of continuous temptation, yet I see it sometimes, in the steady hand of love, an unexpected loyalty just when you had given up and believe the world governed by the temporary

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