The Poetry Marathon

Boxes of memories on every shelf.
Whole lives she’d
packed away.

She didn’t dare open them.
She had moved on.
But she couldn’t face the loss.

Until one January
in the cold light
of the first full moon.

She emptied the closet
built a fire
and watched her memories
go up in smoke.

She opened her fan
with a flair
and with a wave she
moved more than the air.

The fan had powers
imbued by a jinn.
A wave toward her brought
good fortune in.

A wave outward
could ward off bad luck.

So as she cooled off
she gave not one fuck.

In the aftermath
of an argument
about nothing
and everything.
I wondered
what is love
if not the
turning of perspective
so that one sees
clarity over confusion
feels peace consume suffering
sees the dark of fear
dissipate in the light.
What is love?
Love is the truth.
All else is illusion.
Don’t get lost there
or all will be lost there.

The smell of cinnamon takes me back
to the baking day we had before you left.

I climb atop an overturned 5-gallon bucket
to reach the top shelf in the carport
and the crate that holds your belongings.

Tremors visit my hands as I don your favorite jacket,
fold my arms across myself in an empty hug
and trace the outline of the heart patch on the elbow
as I weep.

Daylight warms the window
as I stretch my arms in bed.

Lost in contemplation about
something dumb I said.

Or was that just a dream?

I try to clear the existential cobwebs
from my sleep-filled head.

I rise to face the morning,
greet my beloved with a kiss.

I can’t help but be grateful
that most mornings start like this.

Some days feel like too much.
Some days not enough.
Some days are easy breezy.
Some days seem extra tough.

Some days we dance on waking.
Some days feel like too much.
Sometimes the only difference.
Is the feel of love-warmed touch.

Some days we wish were shorter.
Some days we wish would never end.
Some days feel like too much.
And we seek comfort in a friend.

Some days are full of sunshine.
Some nights are lost in loving touch.
We must cling to those sweet feelings, because
Some days feel like too much.

A vast expanse extends before me.
As far as the eye can see.
I watch the clouds glide slowly past me
and feel extraordinarily free.

I’m undaunted by the unknown,
and I lack the wings to fly.
I throw my arms wide open,
to embrace the outstretched sky.

I inhale the scent of newfound freedom,
exhale thanks and rest my eyes.

It wasn’t much of a mystery.
The facts were plain as day.
She had opened the door of her life
…just a crack.

And the culprit
stole her heart away.

It’s more than a day,
it’s a lifetime.
A commitment to have and to hold.

More than a dream,
this is real, babe.
And it’s been said fortune favors the bold.

More than a promise worth keeping,
it’s deep trust
that’s more precious than gold.

Countless treasures are found
on the journey
as we walk hand and hand
through all time.

Love is our faithful companion.
I am yours, my dearest sweet darling,
and I’ll forever be grateful
you’re mine.

She is not lonely.
She’s protected.