I watch, wait— malinger in your dark and desolate spaces. Lurk in the shadows that form between the stony gravel of words grinding against clenched teeth. Obdurate pebbles confined in a jaw too small to hold the damage that lingers in the silences that echo from these walls in the moments that follow my shout.
Category: Poetry
For a moment in the rain
The rain falls from the sky— a hundred million stars twinkling, hurtling ground-ward to land splish-splashing at my feet. I feel the droplets splatter on my head beading there, only to soak down into my scalp, chasing rivulets, rushing as rivers through the forest of my hair. The world is washed clean by the rain as I too am cleansed. Rinsed of the grime left by my daily grinding away at the ceaseless list of to-dos and couldn't possiblys the infinity of whys that stands between here and all the there's I'd thought to seek. But for right here and now, in this one single moment, drenched by the rain, I feel myself distant. I know myself me.
An infinity of waiting
She stands in the crowd— solitary and silent, an island — all her own. The people flow, surround her on the sidewalk, bumping past her as they go. She's been standing here a long time, her edges worn smooth by the people who brush past. She no longer remembers stopping No longer remembers anything but an infinity of waiting, and a stationary salute she can't recall beginning. The people pass by and she watches, doesn't understand their hurry, can't share their urgency. Her peace has grown roots, right down through crumbling concrete— down into the damp earth that lingers below. She stretches, reaching long arms up for the sun. She turns her eyes from the crowds, and smiles toward the blue of the sky, She hears only the breezes and sighs.
On a totally normal day at 6:27 o’clock
There’s a moment in the evening when the light slips between the city’s high-rises and side-streets at just the right angle.
A moment in the early summer when a gold/pink blush of lingering heat glitters with pollen from trees still so recently turned green— not yet browned and burnished by the summer’s (f)ire.
It’s a moment when time stops.
A moment when the world freezes to the pavement in a crystalline instant of gilded glory.
It’s the moment that captures you forever and is gone before you’ve known it, slipping past one second’s tick and into another’s tock.
It’s the moment when you feel the eye of the universe resting, just this once, upon a totally normal city block, on a totally normal day, at 6:27 o’clock.
Waiting for perfection
I'm waiting for my moment muscles coiled, knees bent. Soon it will be my time No longer biding —ready— Muscles tensing —eager— to explode from the floor. They say practice makes perfect so here I stand — perfecting my stance waiting for some sign of my higher power. Waiting to be sure that this, this time will be the one. My best yet. Higher, faster, farther — Maybe this time I'll reach perfection.