Born From Heaviness

ripple lake
A vision presents one morning.
Pebbles thrown, skipping over the water,
ripples pushing out from the shore.
I walk forward, my feet sinking into the silt.
New verses, like raindrops, are born from heaviness.
Words I’ve scribbled on napkins and used envelopes,
are the scraps I hold, as offerings.

An apparition floats at the foot of my bed.
I reach for him and watch my hand cut through time.rose petal
I plant a rose bush to remember he was here.
Soft petals float, like feathers, they rest before his alter.
I open the door.
I carry my journal to the earth.
There are days I have carved history onto the page
desperate to understand.

The Making Of A History

 

Vacation Culebra

I can remember a warm hand
pressing on my belly
fingers like predictions
reaching
winding their way
forming into my future

I was still un-written
a white page
waiting for its epic poem
to adorn
with rainbow watercolor skies
swelling blue oil seas
fertile green forests
plump with fruit
pixie dust and dreams
of lips being kissed ruby red
sealed with white satin promises

Different authors penned my narrative
each hand bore its distinctive cursive blue and black liquid letters
an inked history
filled my book
some pages tore
shred
I let them fly into the wind

Others I folded
tucked away
an account
a tapestry of tangled kisses
broken hearts
miscarriages of desire
lost souls
ripening on the vine
falling to the earth
passion love hate anger joy sadness loss
chapters in my book

My life
reveals itself
in the warm curve
of my hip
the soft give of my tummy
the arch of my lower back
against my lover’s hand
as he presses into
my core

Our Vacation in Culebra