A Prayer

When I was a child
I would crouch by my bed and pray

for my grandmother

"please don't let her die"

for my parents

"I don't want them to be sick anymore"

for myself

"make me strong, don't let them see me cry"


Now that I'm older
I still sometimes find myself
crouched on the floor asking to be heard,
crouched like a beaten dog...
only now my prayers are different

for my brother

"please let him know he's loved"

for my father

"please keep him sober"

for myself

"please let me survive, let me be strong.....please let me cry"

This morning I had an epiphany.
A sudden manifestation of the meaning of....

A woman kissed her son good bye
and as he ran for the bus stop she watched,
then lit her cigarette and exhaled with a sigh.

And in that moment
I understood.

Constructing the uninhabitable streets of our lives
has become oppressive.

And I drove on, with a smile
and the knowledge that we are free
and that we are loved
and that I know that
makes me real.

I Cried

Last night I cried...

In the heat
and the warmth of your passion,
I cried.

You inside of me, feeling me,
caressing me, at one with me,
I cried.

Our bodies entangled,
sensations overtaking me,
moving with your motions,
listening to the sounds of love being made,
touching you, tasting you, the smell of you.

My body responding to you,
as you pressed further on
reaching further into my soul.
Erasing the memory.

Last night I cried.

"It's funny", she said, "how your image of someone can be so distorted".

I am 13 again, walking through the halls of my life, peering through closed doors...

How strange that I am still here, writing about you, though no longer in iambic pentameter.

Perhaps I'll write a Sonnet....perhaps not.

I am 13 again, looking at your back, wondering why I feel so foreign in your world....

Realizing that my tacit appreciation for you is not enough for me.

I'll find you again when I'm 35.....and maybe, if life will allow it, we will do the same dance again...only better.

Silence

We sat in silence you and I,
listening only to the sounds of our own thoughts
as we pondered each other.

Every now and then we spoke.

"my father"

"your writing"

"india"

And we found ourselves searching into
each other's souls, becoming for just an instant
a part of the other's story.

Your voice stopped me and I found you
lying with your head in my lap, a part of
the same journey.

In an instant I was calmed and I slept
without waking.

On a train through the desert I watched
the landscape scroll by and when I got
off and sat under a tree, you met me there.

We sat together in silence and waved at the moon.

Good night.

I woke up last night in a cold sweat.

Good night.

Choking on air, gasping for breathe.

Sleep tight.

Remembering the last time I cried for you. Reliving the moment I shut off. Remembering....

Don't let the bed bugs bite.

You used to sing. You smelt like the wind on a warm spring day. I used to fall asleep beside you with my tiny fingers tangled in your golden hair.

Let me tell you about the birds and the bees and the flowers....

I woke up last night and cried for you.

...and the trees and the moon up above, and a thing called love.

Good night to you my love, my safe haven, my destroyer.

Good night.

I looked in the mirror this morning and I searched for a sign of you.

I leaned in really close....closer and closer, eyebrows, blemish.

A freckle.

I tilted my head sideways and looked from a different angle. I spun in a circle like a little girl showing off her new dress. "Give me pretty eyes" ....but still I couldn't see you.

I sat down on the bathroom floor....and there on the cold, wet tiles...I found you. With my eyes closed I found you.

In these words I have found you.

I had just been looking in the wrong place.....

Humbled....

Tryst

Lately each morning when I look
in the mirror
my cheeks are flushed
and my skin still smells of you.
My tangled hair tells tales
of a lover's tryst
and my lips are pink
from kissing you.

Cause something like my soul
slips up to heaven
to rendezvous with yours
most every night.
And the memory of your hands
swallows me with such tender grace.

Filled with barbaric light,
Spilling intoxicating allure
I allow myself to plunge
into the taste of exasperated
electric rapture.

Broken Pieces of Me...

Your warmth incubates
the chill inside my heart.
My legs go weak
and leave me wanting.

A white lady
in a blue gown
placed kisses on my forehead
and left me gleaming under a purple moon.

I felt a mad urge
to worship and chant
to soar through the sky
and over the mountains.

Sheltered by soft whispers
with broken pieces of me
formed around the sanctity
of you.

Like a Poem

In the nakedness of my solitude
comes a sudden surge of adrenaline
a half opened caress
as he moves in for the kill.

His fingers like a poem,
I am released.
I am infected by him,
it seeps into my skin and runs through my veins.
The purity,
the innocence.

And I realize in this moment
that he inspires me.