The Poetry Marathon

If you ever feel lost

don’t forget where you are.

This earth is your home

with its guides near and far.

You can follow the river,

or look to the sun.

See the way the grass blows.

Follow deer as they run.

Wherever you are,

is where you’re meant to be

Whether on terra firma,

or exploring at sea.

You are not lost,

you are found and embraced.

You are never alone.

You’re in just the right place.

Flowing warmth

washes away

the things left undone –

a fresh start to the day.

I inhale the scents

rising up in the steam.

I give thanks for each day.

As I wash my soul clean.

Your love is inconstant
and I’m uncertain if I care.

Your moods roll like the Pacific
and I am just a shell.

I have washed up on your shore
like a man once lost at sea.

My soul cries out for yours.
Won’t you set these seabirds free?

In the low tide of my life.
I hope to find you there.

Sparkling in the sun
like a pearly glint of shell.

The Pacific is inconstant and uncertain like the soul of man.

The Trembling of a Leaf. Little Stories of the South Sea Islands by William Somerset Maugham

Before this land

was settled.

I wandered free.

I worked the land.

I spoke the language of trees

and flowers.

Before there was greed

there was gratitude.

Before there was judgment

there was grace.

Harmony and peace

were twinned constants,

and there was no want–

and therefore no disappointment.

I can see this place

clearly, but I

cannot see

the way

in.

Glowing

moon

casts

a

shadowy

light.

No matter

what happens

I know

I’m alright.

I’ll dance

‘til I sleep

beneath the

fading

moon

light.

Strange heat.
Firefly light.
I forego my mask
and head into the night

I’m fighting a lethargy
like none I have known.
I walk out past the treeline
to stargaze alone.

Will celestial wonders
bring me back from the brink.
I sip from my bottle
and take time to think.

I feel more alive
in this moment now fleeting
than I have in four months
of social retreating.

I count falling stars
and hold a wish tight.
I’m just grateful for life
on this strange summer night.

Smiley Face.
Kissy Face.
Eye Rolls and such.
These emoji expressions
confuse me so much.

Are you trying to be cute?
or are you sharing your heart?
I feel quite at a loss
when I read text-speak art.

I want to believe that a
means you love me.
But without those 3 words

I am only left wondering.

All roads led us here,
though we couldn’t see where they’d end.
We promised love for forever.
Now we’re just trying to be friends.

I didn’t ask for this season
or the wildfires that burned.
We didn’t imagine at the beginning
that our lives would take this turn.

Now it’s reckoning season,
our chickens came home to roost.
There is no turning back
from the change we induced.

Let’s just burn clear the land
so we can both start anew.
I’ll let go of your hand.
It’s the least I can do.

Let’s both make a fresh start
at the lives we envision.
I hope we both find ourselves
as we endure this division.

A new season awaits,
as this season ends.
Let’s move forward, hearts open
Let’s try to stay friends.

No where to go.
No one to be.
A leisurely morning
with no one but me.

The freedom and space
for whatever I please.
I might sit down at the piano
and plunk on the keys.

Or take a walk through the garden,
spend some time with the birds.
Or I could read or write something–
feed my romance with words.

Whatever I do,
it’s all up to me.
My perfect day
allows me to just be.

Light spills
into the gap
between
here and gone
yesterday and tomorrow
what is, and what will be.

Walk the
illuminated path
to the other side.

When you get there,
turn and wave.

A recognition of the distance
you’ve traveled.

A greeting to those
walking their own paths

blanketed in light.