Bringers of the Light

some would say we’re too sensitive
call us sissies or say we’re too frail
some would call us drama queens 
and erect walls for us to scale

some would say we’re broken 
angles and edges that just don’t fit
but I see cracks made by growth
where love was free to sift

I see expression, fearlessly 
when some wish to tuck it away
truth tellers in a world of omission
seekers, willing to bend and fray

because, we aren’t afraid of darkness
for our hearts shine too bright
and we have the most amazing job –
we are the bringers of the light

-image via free lighthiuse wallpapers

Universe 

I gave myself to you,
a communion on a blanket of ghosts
beneath the glowing heavens,
felt the cool promise of hope
in Mother Earth beneath my back,
you, the gravity, 
holding me in my place 

within your embrace, 
I forgot all about the stars, 
my universe the space surrounding 
you and I

and as our two hearts
beat the same rhythm, 
I wished you knew
they both belonged to you

-image via alfa-img.com

Into Tomorrow

in the orange glow of the setting sun,
through the dusty shade of cells
flap, flapping against the marble pane,
I am the breeze,
deeply inhaled and exhaled,
as cool sheets claim fiery thoughts,
so that hopes may dance,
and wishes find their way,
into tomorrow

-image via Pixabay 

Storm

A million particles,
Individual

Fragmented, lost
Feeling residual

History’s hasty,
Clearly cynical

Regret’s pitfalls,
Tiresome pinnacle

Clashing and burning,
Changing, pivotal

Light and dark,
Merging lyrical

Inside out,
Recognizing, visible

Passion’s compendium,
More than, mystical

A million particles,
Connected, integral

-image credit community.cgcookie.com

Dear Friend

~photo courtesy of listcrux.com

there are these deep set, vivid green eyes staring at me, transparent, yet saturated with the depth of long roads traveled, courses diligently charted, wars fought and won, some lost, but either way, they never gave up  

their warmth tells tales of love, the kind which permeates her soul and never dies, the kind that grows and evolves, seeds selflessly sown and soil organically enriched with her bare hands 

their penetrating regard alludes to a life with sharp edges, eroded over time by love’s river whose water was made less murky as they filtered out the shoulda, coulda, woulda’s to see deeper, to finally see clearly their own reflection 

there’s something in these eyes that nothing earthly could ever extinguish; I have no doubt these eyes possess a radiance, even amidst life’s darkness moments

looking in the mirror, I see my oldest and dearest friend 

hello hope, I’m counting on you

Someday 

many days I’ve asked myself,
when will someday come?

daydreaming of a future when
the busyness fades to a hum

days when work and alarms and cars
fade to choice, no longer need

when less is more, and I can close the door
and go as slowly as I please 

many days, I’ve asked myself, 
what if someday never comes?

but, I wonder, have I been asking 
the wrong questions to myself

for, isn’t today, a someday, too?
and I need to take it off the shelf

-photo by Richard Meeks

Unsaid 


Standing at the kitchen counter, she quietly and quickly assembles the sandwich, squaring the meat and cheese and bread, just so. It goes into the Baggie with a pinch and a zip. 

As she methodically works, her thoughts are busied with arranging today’s list of things to do: call the school, revise the contract, do some laundry, and on and on.

Behind her, as is true of most mornings, she hears his footsteps on the hard floor, slow and uneven, tentative from sleep. As he nears, she feels the muscles in her body tense. She knows why, but she doesn’t want to know why. Already, she is telling herself, “Let him in, let him in.” Still, she tenses, closing her eyes, her body deceiving her, as usual. 

Enclosing her, his arms wrap around her, sliding in under her own arms and around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder, and his whiskers brushing against her cheek as it locks into the crook of her neck. 

“Good morning, beautiful,” he says, optimistic. 

She hears the sigh before she feels it, knowing it has just escaped her own lips, wishing it had not. Closing her eyes, she wills her body to relax, but it does not, she is busy after all. There are so many things to do, doesn’t he know that? 

As soon as the last inch of air releases her lungs, that telling sigh, she feels it. The courage, the risk, the hope, slowly letting go – his fingers not so tight, his arms not so strong, his head a bit heavier on her shoulder.

Again. 

-image found on Pinterest; based on real life many years ago