Loving you

Loving you is not a misery

The weight of my heart is not a burden

The ball and chain of fidelity

Is as spun from moonbeams light and silken

To see you, I would cover miles

I suffer separation as grief

Thoughts of you yield smiles

Your presence is a relief

Your love like clear water springs

I drink deeply and find healing

I dance with joy as my heart sings

Caught up in the glory of what I'm feeling

Loving you is not a misery

The weight of my heart is not a burden

The ball and chain of fidelity

Is as spun from moonbeams light and silken

Warrior life

I bear the scars of battle with pride

I wear them as ornaments that mark the places I've been

They tell the stories that etched the lines on my brow

And around my mouth

They are memorials to the losses

From which at times I feared I wouldn't recover

And the victories

Made a thousand times sweeter by the heavy price

I welcome curiosity

Because many stop and stare

Or wonder at the change in how I look

And I relish the chance to tell my story

I pity those who would dare pity me

Or regard my badges of honor

As burdens or blemishes

My hair was once my glory

But I traded it for courage

It rests on my head, draping over my shoulders

It flows down my back, clothing me with nobility

Though I am at times weak in body,

Emotionally drained and mentally spent

My eyes shine with strength

My spirit is a calm pool of peace

And with sheer force of will

I am determined not to merely survive

but LIVE.

Bald as love

Because I could not wash you out

I couldn't wash you out my hair

My hair I chopped it off my head

My head I shaved to a bald shine

They swept the hair across the floor

Across the floor into a pile

A pile they threw out with the trash

The trash: love's final resting place

And in the mirror I thought I saw

I saw you turn and walk away

Away from me and so I turned

I turned and walked the other way

Third leg

Sometimes I lie awake

Blinking in the semi-darkness

Listening to the even breathing

Wondering, "Where did you go?"

My mind is restless

Searching through memories

Trying to piece together the clues

it comes upon me

and suddenly

I feel like I just woke from a coma

and the sense that I cannot account for a chunk of my existence

makes me shiver with emotion

like a prisoner in a horror movie

who just noticed a third leg

I remember that young girl

And if we ever meet

I'd like to ask,

"What happened to you to make you me?"

Windowseat

There is no sight more enchanting than you, sitting in a windowseat

head bent over a book, bathed in the light of the setting sun.

My eyes fell upon you, caressing you with wonder, seeing

not just the present but the possible, glorious future. Various

scenes consisting you, or me and you, or us with

others. In an instant my hopes and dreams crystallized

into technicolor, flashing in my mind, dazzling

me with their beauty and reality. Until I found myself

reaching out to touch ...

Your voice brought me back to here and now. Your

smile drew me into the magical spotlight the sun

shone on you and I stepped into the circle, ready

to be enfolded in you. Forever.

Between you and me

Pride stands between you and me

like a bad smell

of a body in a well

the clock sounds the death knell

marking the descent to hell

of what could have been, well,

good.

I can't let go of my illusions

my school-girl fantasies

my feminist sympathies

my chauvinist suspicions

of all your intentions

You can't let go of your expectations

of sweet, obedient acquiescence

or whatever your true ideal of a woman is

(I can no longer pretend to understand

how your mind works)

So we keep vigil at a deathbed

pushing poison to hasten code red

a slanted rehash of what was said

a gassy pair of talking heads

Surely death will do us part

each with half a heart

but pride intact

I find myself in a crowd in a room to which I came with friends to meet other friends

So we orbit in groups or as solo satellites

From group to group or other solo satellites

And I find myself willing our two paths to cross and merge with an excess of cosmic creative energy

And that two formerly solo satellites would spin off on an uncharted tangent

And settle into a brand new orbit

I know I came here with friends to see other friends but I really came here in the off chance I'd see you

Maybe bump into you

Get to talk to you

Friends are cool and all but I kinda like it when they fade into the walls and their voices meld into a steady drone like the a/c

And I get to focus my attention and whatever womanly wiles I may or may not possess on you like homing device on a lunar water-seeking missile/data-collecting gizmo

I'm looking for something

(A signal, perhaps)

And I think I might find it in you

If I could just get close enough to let gravity take effect

Two formerly solo satellites could witness infinity as one

This is Love

Haste makes waste.

Still, I'm in a hurry to

Get misplaced

To be squashed and stuffed into

Space defined by you

Restricted to tick one box

Out of a possible gazillion and two.

Virtual chains and padlocks

Drape around my neck like gangsta bling

Until I can't be seen

For the sheer brilliance

The dazzling brightness

Of your testimonial.

At your insistence

I exceed excess

And recede deeper in denial.

This is love -

All the love I can hope for now -

The concessions I trade for

The right to your arm and your time

Your eyes and your smiles

And maybe someday soon, your name:

The ultimate addition to my collection.

Your Poem

I offer a verse for your consideration
A few lines for your appreciation
The fruit of some deliberation
The result of late night contemplation.

Which is the greater joy;
To write or to have your writing acknowledged
By a thoughtful audience
A like mind that understands what you said
As an echo of their half-formed or forgotten feelings
And acknowledges truth in its simplicity,
Uniqueness or profundity?

Which is the greater joy;
The reaction a good poem can invoke
Rushing blood and rapt attention or
A slow and steady cruise to the bank of recognition
A view through the poet’s eyes,
Or the conviction that those lines
Were written just for you
That the words ring clear and true
Because you and the poet are one?

Joy tonight is in midnight messages
Between a tent under the stars
And my room lit up by my monitor
In muses that work across borders
And poems that come in the night.