Surprisingly, you left
Here on gossamer
For seven years
I loved you.
For seven years
You loved me.
I soul cried your
Name into the sky.
Your spirit answered
And took a tiny
Piece of my heart.
I did not know
That little piece
I spoke your name
Into the void.
You heard me.
You will never
Into the wind.
My tearful words
And released them
Into the sky!
Into the void.
Memories rushed in.
Napowrimo day 11 : origin poem
I came from a place of wailing
And crying behind ones’ eyes.
A place of violence for the littlest of a child’s innocent sins.
A place of broken treasures left in shards upon the floor.
A place of ridicule and shattered dreams.
A place of kindness nullified.
I came from a place where surprise and magic never lived.
Where skin puffed from welts and imagined infractions.
Where survival meant being perfect and even that wasn’t enough.
Where things were given and in the next breath taken away, by a most skilled Indian giver.
I came from a place where privacy was very null and void.
Letters, words and notes from friends…no thought was ever safe.
A place where only the birthdays of others are remembered .
A place where Christmas did not mean gifts.
Sitting and watching others open gifts on birthdays and Christmas.
Trying hard to keep back tears and imagine that inexperienced joy.
I came from a place where I had no self.
Where I was only an extension of you.
It almost worked.
It almost did.
I came from a place where my eyes opened to the treatment of others.
They weren’t like me.
They were wanted and loved.
I COME from a tiny girl who vowed to find love one day.
Who nourished her own free spirit.
Who eventually found her way.
Away from the evil she grew up with.
Away from the people who tried to steal her spirit and her life.
Today I have my own origin.
I found the things I love and filled my life with them.
I live for experiences.
I live for the moment.
I live in the joy of simple things.
I am in the sky.
I am in the sun.
I am in the moon with blue cheese shining bright.
I am the blue notes of jazz and the high, white notes of Bach.
I am in tea and I float high in pink champagne bubbles.
Today I am from my own origin.
Today I do what I want.
Joy is in the breeze.
Gentle, wispy fingers touched by brine caress my cheeks as they pass by on their way to others who have journeyed through asphalt and sand to sit at the edge of the sea.
Joy is in the wave.
Waves lap at my toes. Watery tendrils lap at the sand pulling and pushing golden kernels of soon to be sea glass with the regularity of the moon. Gentle tingling can turn into the crashing of white noise as the sea transforms from calm to wild.
Joy is in the sun.
When the earth winters and the sun is far, a few hot beams of light are sun-sent, like beckons in the icy dark. These rays of illumination light up a face chilled by frigid air.
Joy is in the berry.
Red, Shiraz, Merlot or Rose.
Cava, Brut or the finest champagnes! The intoxicating blend of sweet, dark berries and bubbles fill my glass with an instant celebration.
Joy is in the sweetness.
Cocoa beans and hazelnuts are the guilty sin of the soul. Rich, brown chocolate warms the tongue as it melts to a liquid finish. Bumps of hazelnuts burst in nutty goodness against sharp and happy molars.
Joy is in the music.
The cacophonous din of data swamp the mind with daily cobwebs. The blue notes of jazz and white chords of Bach cleanse the soul. Music soothes the bewildered me.
Joy is in the touch.
Firm fingers trace circles on flesh tight with tension. Oiled hands knead bread on shoulders knotted with hot cross buns. Knuckles meander down spines tightly coiled with springs. Relax. Release. Breathe. Skin and muscle yield to gentle hands.
Napowrimo Day 7 : joy poem. Finally time to post it!