Monday morning winter sunshine warms my room and
James Taylor serenades me and my oatmeal.
There are frost etchings on the old warped glass windows that surround my space.
In the harsh light of day, my mind and heart step back to echos of last evenings secret loving,
Soft as the candle flames flickering on my night stand.
A lingering warmth traces his outline in my bed as his Cheshire cat smile is the last to leave,
Only fading with the daylight.
I am not a quitter but there comes a time
When the fight is lost.
They say to resist is futile, as some things cannot be defeated
And may not need to be, so,
I have taken the advice given and
Have made the decision.
I have gone to the room,
Cleaned the cobwebs out of the corners, painted the walls yellow,
Arranged the flowers on the table and freshened the bed with clean, crisp linens, after all,
He deserves only the best.
It is a south facing room,
I know he likes the sun and heat.
I looked at all the other rooms – all unoccupied,
But none were quite as nice.
I don’t think he will be lonely there as
I will always be with him.
I’ll have to find a safe place to put the key;
I know I will use it often.
Especially at first,
I know he will come out a lot.
I’ll have to hold him gently in the palm of my hand,
Put him back in and lock the door each time; there is no other way.
I know I’ll complain about the inconvenience,
But it really will be my own fault, as I’ll still think of him too often.
They say in time I’ll see him less and less.
I’m not so sure of that, but I hope they’re right.
But right now I can take no more; he refuses to leave so I have no choice
As he comes uninvited into my thoughts daily.
So when those thoughts and feelings overwhelm me,
I will hold his essence in my hands and send him back.
And when I send him back, he will need no direction
As he knows which room is his.
It’s the first one on the right,
The only yellow room in my heart.
Revelations come to me when I least expect them unwanted, but insistent that I listen.
They are the kind I don’t want to know and don’t want to hear.
But they come anyway . Maybe to clear the way,
To open my heart and eyes and speak the truth to my soul.
But they are hard truths to take.
My heart says no, but my head and soul say “Yes, listen and know”.
My heart is a child, trusting , self-deluding and innocent.
My soul aches for her in her time of pain and sorrow.
Love is not only felt by my heart, my soul loves too.
But my soul is blessed with a stronger constitution, a greater consciousness, a better understanding.
It is older and wants to protect my heart, wants to spare her from pain but knows it can’t.
So it warps itself around my heart and holds her while she weeps and sleeps. It knows that time will heal her and is patient in the waiting time.
My soul knows my heart is good and kind and that she loves unconditionally and breaks because of it.
My soul knows that my heart knows no other way to love so it waits and loves and holds and protects with gentle hands and the love of God.
Together, in time, we will love again, all three of us,
I’m sure of it, my soul told me so.
Be extraordinary in your ordinariness and
Marvel in the beauty of everyday blessings.
Notice how snow piles up in leeward corners of windows during a storm
And the rings raindrops make in puddles.
Admire the spirit of sunflower seeds sprouting in
October under the bird feeders.
Let the sparkling morning spider webs on
Summer grass fill your eyes with the freshness of love.
Feel the sweetness of warm, wet, baby kisses and
Hear the snap of clean linens on a spring morning clothesline.
Watch and listen for the ordinary ways God speaks to us
A million times a day and see …
Bees dancing on pebbles in the bird bath and
Crisp autumn leaves ringed with October morning frost.
Hear a Wood Thrush’s echoing, haunting song at dusk and
Watch clear glass jars and white porcelain bowls dry on the kitchen counter.
Notice frost fingers splaying across winter windows and
Soak in steaming soup on a cold December day.
Marvel at sun sparkles on freshly fallen snow and
Baby sighs in the night.
Drink in the light in your lover’s eyes and
Savor his sweet kisses at midnight.
Smile at the tea balls ringing like temple bells in the silverware drawer and
A ring of stateless steal measuring spoons in a baby’s fist.
All just ordinary things but extraordinary in their beauty and simplicity,
Just like you and me.
Morning warmth spreads through the house with the sunlight and
Silly baby squeaks and raspberry tongue sounds slide down the hall.
I smell her sweetness at the nursery door,
Baby powder, formula, clean diapers folded neatly in a basket and scented baby wipes.
I peak through the crack in the door to catch her unaware
In the act of just being a baby, so honest and true.
A well-worn bear hangs by one arm over the side of the crib,
And Isabelle’s tiny hands clutch the top rails.
A toothless grin and sparkling eyes
Greet me and the morning with unconditional love.
She knows no conditions.
A baby’s love is free in its simplicity and truth,
The way God made love to be.
We could learn a lot from babies
The poetry of my heart
Follows the song of my soul.
Although this heartache drowns me and
Its sorrow depletes my very being,
I hold my love for you close,
To protect it from those who would cheapen it.
From those who don’t believe it ever was, including, sometimes, you.
but I know that
It could have been.
It should have been.
(this is an updated, rework of a poem I posted two years ago)
Sheets of white surround me in
A blanket of feathered softness as dreams of him linger
on the edge of sleep, my being cloaked in night’s darkness.
Through my darkness, I watch the night shadows drift past the windows,
They have lives of their own, the darkness becomes them.
The textured blackness of night can be comforting in its sameness.
A sameness that frees me from the eyes of judgment.
And as I lie back and watch his image leave the edge of sleep
I feel him join with me in whispered prayers the essence of which lingers on when sleep has fled.
But they are short lived prayers and are consumed by the night shadows to hide in the sameness of the textured blackness
Unanswered, dissolving and alone
Forever.
Our destiny is love,
In its form of being and nonbeing.
It flows from the source,
From the beginnings of timelessness.
From the place of no time or deception as time is limiting and
Deception is the extinguisher of love.
Loves lies around the edges of our worldly existence,
Waiting for its chance, for an opening to flow in.
It is patient and forgiving but is not to
Be taken for a fool.
Love cries with agony watching our abuse of and unkindness towards each other
But it will never walk away or give up on us.
It sees and is the stillness in me and
Recognizes itself in you and all beings and nonbeings.
There is a lack of labeling in love, no separateness of one from the other.
It does not merely exist in some abstract form as it has no form and is alive in the stillness of all things.
Love seeps into existence in fragrant vapors of stillness and
Frames the portal to eternity.
Isness and non-duality are the very essence of love, the connection of being and nonbeing,
The beginning and the end, the beginingless and endless formlessness of all form.
Love is the essential formlessness of me and you and
The non-separate nature of us all.
So forget my name but remember when you and I were the formless within each other.
And when you again feel that deep stillness and
Have found your remembered place in me,
Come and hold me and once again we will share
The love and stillness of forever.
Why do I ask myself why?
It is the question I don’t want to ask
With the answers I don’t want to hear.
I give it all to you, all of me, nothing is withheld.
All is free and presented to you as the gift
I value it to be.
I hold it dear and close to my heart,
But you, you don’t see it the same way, because to you it is not personal.
Nothing is held close to your heart so
When I give it all and you take it happily, I feel good
About the giving but you just expect the getting.
I suppose it is my own fault, my fault in expecting you
To value it the way I do.
I lie with you and let you in to become part of my soul
Part of my very being and in my wishful thinking I see you as
Doing the same for me. I feel a part of you, a part of your being.
But in reality I am not only because you don’t want me to be.
You give yourself freely and totally but in a physical sense only.
Your heart and soul are not present, not given to anyone.
So when you tell me of the others I see you as giving them that precious
Gift I give to you and your actions hurt me to my soul.
But I am wrong
You can‘t give away that which you do not have and when I remind myself of that fact,
My hurt becomes for you and not because of you.
The dark swallowed me whole – and
The moon knew I could not say no.
You came to me and held me close,
I was putty in your hands – and
The moon knew you could not stay away.
You kissed my face and lips,
I kissed your mouth and eyes- and
The moon felt our building heat.
Your hands slid over my body and
Woke all of my senses – and
The moon felt your passion.
Our lovemaking was hot and real and
Warmed the ground beneath our bodies – and
The moon, not wanting to intrude, turned its face and looked the other way.
While I slept you covered my naked body with flowers from my gardens
And then just walked away, unmoved – and
The moon cried for me.
heartwordsforpoetry 