The Vigil

The vigil we hold when we watch the soul's fingers slowly release a body we love.

We medicate them;
To ease our own discomfort as much as theirs.
Sip. Crunch. Nibble. Slurp.
But nothing is right.
It is too hot or too cold.
We need something sweet or salty.
There is no silence quite as deafening as the hum and hiss of the oxygen tank and gasps of air dancing in the darkness.
All the chords of the diversions we are accustomed to fall flat.
We milk each sound for any answer to the question that hangs in the air like jasmine on a summer night.
How much longer?
How much longer will l be able to reach out and touch you?
How much longer will I be able to hear you speak my name?
How much longer can I manage all this?
How much longer until that beast, the unavoidable grief, tears apart this little world we have built?
How much longer will I be able to hold up this wall between you and the suffering?
How much longer until I should give you another dose?
This is a sacrament.
This is the vigil we hold when we watch the soul's fingers slowly release a body we love.

Untarnished

Shriveled muscadines too long on the vine,

the juicy delight wasted.

Sitting on the edge of brokenness, 

where weeping willow caresses the river.

On the ripples of this tenderness,

Rhodendrum petals succum to the rapids.

Flowing water washes away tree number 28,

and all the pleasure of my last mistake.

Searing cold on hot skin,

I welcome the rain drops.

Shivering and drenched,

I take cover under the tree where I fell in the mud the day you took my picture-

Right here.

Is nothing untarnished?

The sun, the stars, the moon

The sound of wind through my beloved trees

Blossom and bloom

All remind me that I called you in on raindrops.

But, you could not love me like rain.

Praise Kink

The good girl brand 

Is seared into my soul.

Each layer of conditioning that I muddle through, slough off

reveals the tenderness of

A deeper burn.

Through skin

Underneath my bones

Permeating each breath

Laced in every thought 

Lurking in my dreams.

I carve " I choose me" in my arm only to

Defer to disfiguring who I am 

To be a good girl.

I try to resist

Am I true to myself?

I believe it.

I believe I am healed.

I am doing it.

Until I realize I've lost myself again 

This.

This is why I have come to love the descent.

I watch myself 

Slowly isolate

Lose interest 

Shrink in

Lash out

Coil up

Until I finally see her

Matted braids 

Sunken eyes

Unapologetic 

I see me in the eyes of the girl at the stoplight 

Cigarette on her lips staring wistfully as her music gushes out of her stereo

I fall into my deep self

She/me/we

Have nothing to give

To anyone 

Nothing

Raw truth 

Striking clarity 

I love her.

I really, really love her.

Look at her lost, all wrapped up in the beauty of a fallen branch, detached lichen and decaying leaf

She soothes me

CLEAR!

I hear in the distance as she is ripped from my finger tips 

The voltage runs through me 

Bringing me back to the searing need to smile as I whisper

"My pleasure"

 Recombinant DNA

Bruises get darker long after the assault

They resurface as the layers of wounded muscle purge to the surface the tarnish

Bruises in the soul can take even longer

Though it has been decades,

Careful examination under my fingernails and inside the tears in my heart

Will reveal DNA of the Jesus he tried to force

Into every orifice

Into every pore

Into every synapse

Nothing is untarnished.

Nothing.

But the microscope reveals that it’s not even

The divine

It was only the fragments that they

Recombined

To command power

To rule supreme

To defile every woman

This recombinant DNA is an unrelenting yet diminishing power

Void of the love

Of its origin

Persephone

I am the maiden of spring.
Flowers bloom in the concave of earth
Where my feet pass.
New life bursting forth,
Eternally youthful and jubilant.
I coax daffodils through winter's last snow.
I sprinkle cherry blossoms in the sky.
I call forth azalea, sweet pea, dandelion.

I am the queen of the underworld.
Each soul christened into death with my embrace.
An Iris remembered, I rule in death unfolding,
Eternally savoring the shadow, sitting with grief.
I draw the dead to my bosom.
I bless you with my witness, my fingertips and pomegranate.
I illuminate the path into the dark World.

I am the maiden of spring.
I am the queen of the underworld.
I hold the sacrament of life and death
I am the maiden of spring.
I am the queen of the underworld.
I gift you the sacrament of life and death.

Tribe of Trees

I come from a tribe of trees

a pine cone with feet

an acorn with wings

I am
Seed cracked open
Tender tap root reaching
Mighty, mighty root
Sweet sap oozing
Blossoms and Full Flower
Leaf barren
Fallen Fruit

I return to earth

Sun-kissed
Rain fed
I am earth blessed

I come from a tribe of trees
and
I have something to sow.

Nandina and Canvas

While I may not have your DNA curled about my double helix map-

It is you who breathed my fire back to life,

     "Don't tell me you're fine! Tell me how you really are!"

You extracted my story,
      From my experiences.

Reflecting it to me
      in a mirror of love,
      "Girl, do you have any idea how remarkable you are?"

The moon was waxing the day you divulged your time is waning.

     "Anyone can be 70, that's nothing, but 80? 80 is an accomplishment"

I left that day with
      a painting,
           a plant
              and a pile of empty flower pots.

This collection sums up the kinship we share:

     Igniting creativity,
          Connecting to nature,
               Cultivating hope.

The moon was waxing the night I realized that our time is waning.

The glaring empty space where the full moon would soon be
Reflect the question back to me,
      How will I exist without your witness?

The answer I stumble upon?
     I must water your seeds planted in my soul

Look people right in the eyes
    Ask how are you doing?

And demand a honest answer!