The Poetry Marathon

When I was young

I would hide

Submerge myself fully underwater

Eyes closed

Only my gentle exhale keeps me company

A secret joy

In knowing

I am sequestered from the world

A lock of hair finds its way into my mouth

My shadow skips along

I walk unencumbered

The tiny flame in my heart burning bright

Kindled with painstaking care

May it glow forevermore

Casting its light on you and I

For I am banking on you

My devil, my light.

If I could choose one word to describe her

Free

With unbound locks haloing her head

Undaunted

By the pressures of society

Strong

With a heart scarred but unbroken

Alive

It is on dandelion heads

Blown into gossamer

It is on old coins

Tossed into the well’s shelter

It is a fervent prayer

Made on a distant star

Of far flung hopes and dreams

From our limitless reservoir

Be still, mind

Let those thoughts seep out of your porous shell

Don’t take it personally

He had a bad day, perhaps too little sleep

You took the high way, apologized and made peace

Let those thoughts seep out of your porous shell

And bother you no more

Sleep, and breathe.

At night I lie with your scent close to me

It isn’t from your clothes

Nor the soap you use

But a potent cocktail of skin, linen and air

That clings to you wherever you go

Soak it into my pores

So it may never leave me

As you always have to.

Pick up a pen

If you were to draw

From the centre of my forehead

To my fingers and toes

In a single line

You would find no breaks

Lift your hand

If you were to draw

From the top of my head

Down the slope of my back

To my fingertips and heels

In a single stroke

You would find scars

Skyscrapers emerge like great stalagmites

Their tops wreathed in mist

Streets cobweb like the veins of a leaf

People are talking, laughing, yelling

In English, French, Russian

Not everyone understands one another

But some do

We gather at watering holes to feed

Go out in the mornings to forage

Return at dusk

Are we not

A concrete jungle?

An arched gable leads out

To a field of molten sunshine

A tempting promise

As I peek through closed doors

Hoping to find a key that fits

Joints screaming,
Muscles aching,
Trying for a quiet pain.
An ache that buds instead of blossoms,
Take it today.
Take it tomorrow.
One day,
There’ll be a spill of raven hair on a snow-white pillow,
The brown eyes once vivacious now dulled,
Passing into a restless slumber,
Chasing a quiet pain.