Candle for Loneliness (2012)

Pull the lines, run the rudder
Over the waves and into the trees
Running forward but anchored down
In motion and still
Lopsided and silly

The wind is pressing the water in
It wears on the wood, exposing blemishes
It lines the side of my face
And I press on

On my knees I light this candle
On my knees I light your candle
On my knees I light my candle

Begging for someone that isn't you

Yesterday I found this old poem in my phone. Such different emotions now, and yet the imagery still is applicable.

Today is the Day the Lord has Made

Amongst the redwoods
and atop the hill,
everything is in proportion.

The morning mist
and afternoon fog
blend distinct colors and lines.

Temporary leaves,
gliding air
and the finality of roots.

Everything in its right place,
seemingly scattered,
yet purposeful.

Somewhere in between
shifting seasons
and a committed plot of land,
I watch and water my unchanging circle of soil.

Finally, a sprout!

A leafy companion!

Victory in bringing life
is quickly followed by fear.

Each step leads to the next
on ground that is firm, steady and surprising.

I wake, water and walk,
trusting in the creation of today.

Resonate Poem: Vanguard group 2013

Day old dollar bag of delicious pastries,
crumbles with each bite,
dusting my legs with cream-colored powder.

Seeing my home through new eyes,
the colors, the food,
the sexuality bookstore categories.

Quoting Rilke in the sun,
hearing future dreams
rekindles my hope for what's next.

Eye contact,
kind words,
earnest questions.

I'm right here with you,
struggling to understand why I have a bed,
and my brothers and sisters don't have a place to lay their heads.
More alike to the Son of Man than I.
I'm a bird with a nest.

There is abundance.
Pupusas, sandwiches and sweets gifted.
I'm a bird of the air, a lily of the field.

This city is God's blessing and heartache.
Smokey dog greets us,
after picking up dozens of old cigarette butts.

Sunshine keeps us warm, breeze cools us down.
Sitting just a bit longer in the grass.
"the Lord gives his Beloved[s] rest."

Walking and learning
with and from you -
thanks for this gift.

There's another fire on the tracks, delaying my departure

(written last June, so fascinating and comforting to read this now, being in a different place emotionally/spiritually/physically...)

One year later and the embers
Are keeping me waiting

Waiting waiting

I stay busy to not stress
This reality does not match
My itinerary

Locals get dibs
Says the advertisement
Where's my batch of ripe
Avocados then?

I'm the only one with baggage
One for each day I'm gone

Traveler with too much luggage

Won't you come lord
Arrive and release me
Place me on a rapid train
That slows down my panicked brain

Netting around my legs and
Fake color on my hair
Appearances appearances
Impeccable music taste
When did my priorities shift?

1950's Fortress Woman: In Memory of Lois Scoville

Without memorial
but not without
memory.

One of few fortress branches
in this bloodline tree.
Seep your strength into my roots.

if only we could have spoken as girls.
I long to see you flirt and cry.
Instead you were the matriarch,
sassing, winking and stoic.
Dropping ice cubes into your chardonnay.

If only we were young together,
we metropolitan women.
You New York furniture buyer,
and I San Francisco book publisher.
Baking your Swedish lace cookies,
and shocking you with my tattoos.

Someday we'll be together,
city girls on clean cobblestone streets.

Earning My Blisters

Two hands cup my heart
For years they were brick walls
I wandered and stumbled the streets
Lying with confidence and self-control

But my heart ate away at the flesh of my hands
like a sun slowly melting wax
Begging to be released and seen

So I placed a veil over my glowing orb
and showed it frantically to the first person who approached
but the veil and my lies kept me safe
and removed. The first person was gone
within a beat.

I lied and said I didn't regret.
But I do.
I would visit Dr. Mierzwiak if I could.

My little sphere pulsating with longing,
I continued on and attempted
Amidst indecisive boys and excruciating dates.

Then you appeared,
and I immediately liked the back of you.
I pursued and orchestrated,
and emasculated.
You were sweet and left me flowers.

I took the veil off of my light.
And you held my hand, gazing at me with steady eyes.
I let it roll into your hands.
My tender star, gently sunning the insides of your palms.
At first you held it delicately,
even more gingerly than I ever did.
I was in awe and had
momentary relief for my raw fingers.

As time went on,
you forgot what you held captive.
I knew eventually
it would return,
biting at my skin.
I didn't foresee it
shattering to pieces.
Glowing shards line the undersides of your feet.
I hope they burn and cut.
And I walk these streets, with a void.

I earn my blisters with each risk I take,
they slowly crawl up my legs
from my feet,
over my hips, between my breasts
and settle into my ribs.
Each day they combine and grow.

And tomorrow, it will glow.

To the Wanderer, to make much of Seattle (My Herrick imitation...in title only): For Angela's departure

Dearest lover of quiet moments,
and the movements of the unseen.

I pray your roots lock into the Seattle soil.
Let them grow deep,
let them be exposed to the elements.

You are such a beautiful sprout,
allow yourself to flourish.

Let the birds flutter around you,
take root so the creatures of the earth
can shade themselves
beneath you.

Continue to love Him in the unreserved, fierce way you have.

So much is before you,

        "stretch beyond what limits you."