Finding the words

What I would give to be bilingual;
to be fluent in both English and my soul
and be able to translate one into the other
so people might understand what I mean
when I say I need this for the moments
I want to be strong but can only manage weak.
I would love to be able to send the hardest heart
to it’s knees and leave it to it’s tears
and that feeling that only comes from
complete conviction; the one that feels
like finally finding the word that was
hiding on the tip of your tongue.
I’m the kind of girl who believes that
God wouldn’t have given me this talent
if I weren’t supposed to use it and I mean to.
But I’m in my own way, tripping over my own
fingers, stumbling over my own words.
I would love to change the world or,
at least, a life with these thoughts of mine
and maybe I can but, if that’s the case
I’ll need someone to show me where
I can find the courage to do so.

“I wish I could know what you’re thinking.”

I’ve finally figured it out.
When we’re quiet and you don’t realize
that I’m staring, in wonder, awestruck, amazed,
and you ask but I never knew how to explain:
but it’s like when I hear something beautiful
and my whole body aches from the inside out
and there’s this primal need to keep the sound
so bad that I look for a way to make
words tangible just so that I can
lock them in my room and never let them go.
It’s like I’ve found the recipe for perfect
and I don’t want to share.

So here:
You’re my poetry.
strong, precise, beautiful,
worth every breath and every heartbeat
and I will recite you until my lungs deflate
and my voice rejects me.
I will translate you into a hundred different
languages just to learn that I love you no matter what.
and then, when I can speak no longer,
I will copy you word for word,
again and again, on every surface I can reach
until my fingers break and that’s when I’ll
find someone who will read you to me, day and night,
until I am deaf. And when I can’t speak
or write or hear, I will have you tattooed on my body,
permanently so I can feel it deep beneath my skin.
And when I am old, desperate to see God
just to thank him, in person, for you
I will pass you down, to our daughters and sons
and grandchildren, in this leather-bound book
full of our stories and we will live forever that way.

Transaction Description

It doesn’t matter.
Broken things: discarded.
Past: disreguarded.
A future means nothing
if you don’t want it.
Pull it all together
to forget these roads
those nights
vibrantly colored lies
as decieving as your hands
and you couldn’t hold me if you tried.
You were my correction
incorrect
there was nothing to correct
just a wish that grew hands
convinced, not desired.
you unloved me
backwards
unintentionally first
and still last.
coming and going
and you just stay gone
the shadow with no master
as impossible as our love.

untitled

I
have been
teaching my fingers
how to write the
way your eyes change from
soft evening thunderstorm to morning ocean
and
that look
on your face
when you don’t know
that I haven’t stopped watching
because blinking might change the moment.
You
have been
teaching my fingers
how to reach for
things that wont leave me
wanting more than what I touched
and
to leave
the things they
touch in a better
state than before; to leave
my initials carved in this world.

A Moment with God

Here is infinity
smeared from cloud to cloud
branded and glittering
echoing thread-thin
hungry yet full
laughing in symphony
falling into open hands

And here is chaos
tumbling from his resting place
racing sound itself
telling secrets
faceless
scribbles on scrap paper
a ruby in the dirt

Hold my parallel universe
ink bleeding through a masterpiece
slow, but not slow enough
turning no one away
complex in origin
the shadows mother
touching – never being touched.

And write me love
golden and shining
whispered and shouted
holding my hand
the purest reflection
unending
as patient as winter.

Laying Beside the Sunshine

My favorite part comes
when I wake from one
dream and roll into another
To morning, every day
is a holiday unspoiled,
only recognized by those
who know it’s tricks.
So I climb from cottony
dreams and emerge
from just-opened eyelids
and there you are,
morning’s present to me,
gift-wrapped in my blanket
and placed in my arms.

Reunion

Restless breath
twelve steps to the door
take the corner too quickly
hand on the wall for balance
rhythm found, four more steps
familiar smile, inhale, exhale,
collide.

Here is the collision of everything and nothing

and, guess what?
I’m not afraid of this.
It’s bigger than me but not stronger.
It’ll hurt but I’ll heal.
I have no hope of understanding
but I do have hope.
It can touch my skin
but my heart will beat the same.
You can bend my faith
but you can’t take it from me.
So here, let me save you the trouble:
take my name, my body, my things.
Take my dignity, the smile from my face.
Take your time taking mine
but don’t waste any thinking
that this will stop me at all.
What’s most important
is what you’ll never touch
and you’ll learn soon enough.
This fight is over when I say it is
and you’re the only one losing blood.
Lick your lips. Say those salty words.
Wait for them to sting but know that,
once the fire is out, I’ll still be standing.
I’m not afraid of you.
I’m not afraid of this.
Light will always be brighter
than the darkest night
and love is sturdier than both.

The Fourth Dimension

Who cares what time it is?
I beleive the tip of my nose
has found solace against
your neck, while my lips
wait patiently for the signal
on your collarbone.

This is always the last time.

I woke to the weight
of your ice-skating fingertips,
my forehead pressed
against your side,
and smiled into your skin.

This won’t happen again.

I was magnetically drawn
into the cave of your body,
secured by your arms
as if you expected me
to resist or vanish.

Just once more.

Mentalism

What exists?
Not my body or his,
nor the whole
when they are the same.
Eyes, hands, lips, muscle -
my favorite places and pieces -
my acknowledgment gives them life.
Mind is over matter
and he is mine.
We are two parts
of one whole,
keeping each other from neutrality.
We are destined beings.
He rises and he falls.
I rise and I fall.
Sometimes
we rise and we fall.
I am not a victim
nor am I guilty.
We balance.
We compensate.
We push and we pull.
He’s ready to give up
and I’m only beginning to fight.