The Rhythm of Stability

the winds of change blow on and on
the tides of the moon move in, then out
then in yet again. Landscaping the
malleable sand beneath my feet
They startle me, perplex me
provoke my passionate pout

“Be not afraid of change”
so says the Witch of the Sea
while I crave stability of life all the same
“Stability comes in many forms” She teaches
pointing to the monotony of her surf song
while I yet disbelieve Her fabulous claim
“The truth you seek lies within, my Child
Seek this; the rest will follow suit
Seek this; you will find your heart’s content
Seek ye this . . . if thy desire be true”

I begin to dig my heels in to the
strength of the Dune I mount
I hesitate – Her breath moving through my hair
I question. I argue. I AM afraid.
I Breathe
and begin to count the stars
then I take Her hand as I always do
in times like these, close my eyes
to my spiraling doubts and fears, begin to place
one foot before the next, absent goodbyes . . .

the tides of my moon sweep out
in Light, in Love, in Lust
the tides of my moon sweep in
then out again, as I accept they must
marking the sands of my life as they go
taking, giving; they ebb, they flow
marking the sands of my heart as they must
ashes to ashes, dust to dust

“In Perfect Love, In Perfect Trust”
I make my way where I may not see

remembering

These are the rhythms of stability.

April 8, 2018 1

Like a Mirror

Like a Mirror, she reflects the Sun.

Her inner beauty radiates the universe
warms worlds, illuminating darkness
shining where light feared to tread before.

Like a Lady, she seems noble-born.

I would treat her as such, were she mine.
I would cherish her and treasure her
better than she dreams possible, more
than she knows to be true in this moment of Time.

Like the first edge of Dawn, she touches me.

The moment we met my interest was
Struck … like a match in the dark of night, burning bright.
Though she did not know it. Though I did not show it.

Like a Twin, mirrors my Self, I hers.

Our thinking walks the self-same pathways,
so many things exist that we both like to do.
Do her feelings mirror mine? Will paths coincide?

The warmth of hearth-fire, I want her beside me.

In the morning when we wake. At night as we sleep.
In our lives as we live them. (As we breathe and love . . . .)

Like the Sun

. . . she radiates beauty.

I wrote this for someone who wanted a poem to give to a “person of his interest.” Then it was too much so I don’t think he ever gave it to her! lol!

* Related content from jdubqca poetry by j matthew waters:

melting icicles mesmerizing like prisms

April 7, 2018 2

Abstinance

Wet hair on her skin
Tangled ‘tween her fingertips
How long it has been

Cold. Cool. Damp. Her Veil
Leads her into temptation
Her Will seems so frail

Her pores awaken
Tactile Temptress of the Truth
Visibly Shaken

Steps from the shower
Saved by her towel, by Time
By the late hour

Dryness of her skin
Empty in bed and in heart
Seeking Sacred Sin

Seeking Salvation.
Desiring Solitude.
Choosing Neither One.

April 6, 2018 1

Unexpected Delight

He runs to me with open arms, full of trust and love
and I delight in such expression; the openness undoes me
It’s difficult to translate, into words, the lesson conveyed
when he runs full tilt, arms open wide, and Laughing
never doubting my acceptance, or open reception

It’s a spiritual lesson, learned or unlearned with care
Our babies learn, and pass it on; they learn to love and share
He runs to me from across the room, smiling into the wind
of his own momentum, into the sea that is my heart
into my arms, into the love that awaits him there

My child, you are my heart’s delight.

Painting by Mabel Robbins Harris

April 4, 2018 5

Speechless

speechless among the flowers without language to convey
what happened to me tomorrow, what will happen yesterday

for yesterday’s events are fodder for today, for those who saw
and for those who heard, the speechless stumble

and it is true, we are strobed for Emanation to a degree
but at what cost? And who will be there to cry, or see?

I have done the research, and have not even come close
to learning how light emanates from heaven, into humble

Without Light I just wilt. I sigh. I cry. I wither away
to dust unsaid, to particles unknown, to yet another day.

If they saw its magnificence they would name it Divine.

April 3, 2018 0

Satin Kisses

“Love the Lord your God
with all your passion and prayers and intelligence and energy”

Mark 12:28-34

The sun blazed hot, molten, orange in my soul that day;
it was the day I said goodbye.
I looked at him and he looked at me;
I thought some more, and then began to cry …
Remembering satin kisses and the like.

Humiliated by my pointless defeat,
I slumped again, into my life of despair and pain.
At this point I knew he would go,
just like I knew nothing would ever be the same …
Remembering his hands, satin kisses and the like.

My feet were bone dead weary so long ago
that I cannot even say or guess how long. I just know.
I know this in the same way I know that I will likely never belong …
Remembering his strength, satin kisses and the like.

He was, and is, no ordinary creature of daylight
places or of simple male spaces.
Has more than I thought I knew,
of various names and complicated faces …
I remember gentleness without guile, satin kisses and the like.

He has left his lasting fingerprint
on the very fabric of my heart, and even my soul.
Leaving me to wonder once again,
if it is my place or destiny, to ever be whole …
Remembering with tears not soft, his satin kisses and the like.

April 1, 2018 0

Gospel Truth

I was his wife
I was his life mate
I was a part of him
I know he was part of me

Was his wife remembered
Was his love returned
Was any of it worth it in the end

His wife blended into history, then obscurity
Wife to companion, companion to harlot
Wife to harlot, harlot to whore

I was his wife

March 26, 2018 0

I Walk Unadorned

I walk unadorned, naked
unfettered . . .
dropping my clothes as I pass.
Each day my jewels fall
to the ground . . .
beneath my feet, bared
to the stones beneath them.

Honesty . . . is it so rare?
Truth, did it ever exist, like this?
But the stones are kind
as stones may be.
The stones are more than
and less than, I see.

I walk unadorned, freed.

Photo free from Wikimedia Commons

March 24, 2018 1

I Share My Grief

I share my grief in private places.
Blanket pressed hard to my face
in the dark, in the bathroom, door
closed behind me bent over the sink.

I share my grief in private places.
Smoothing it with lotion onto the
skin of my belly, deceptive and
swollen, yet emptied.
Bereaved in its own special way
echoing the pain that throbs beneath
the surface of every blood-run vein,
every artery connecting all the parts
of my useless body.

I share my grief in private places.
In my thoughts. In my feelings.
In the moments between when
they look at me, in the moments
their backs are turned.
I share my grief in my solitude.

I share my grief in the patches of
Light and in the patches of Dark, that
mark the timeline of my life today.

I share my grief.