The song of her

white and black mountain
Photo by Nikhlesh Tyagi on Pexels.com

My fantasy was placed in a velvet box,  buried at garden end where the ivy grew heavy

those were the days gone now, or perhaps forgotten, where fantasy was all you had

walking into bars, confronting realities better spared

shadows in corners, leaning, lurching, enveloping, retreating

you did not exist, we did not exist

our images were not part of the collective, the minority, the clique or the open space

wide and tumbling with questions, a loneliness at the core, the petals red

filaments of each others minds like fire flies without dark to make of it light

had you existed then, I would have traveled continents, just to know

feel your long black hair trace my need to be, closer than possible

only books, only songs, only walks on moors with other people’s dogs in tow

I imagined meeting you, what you would say, how we would get to know each other

and somehow shape the magic to follow

but it was only ever like the rain, predictive in falling but without control

impotent magicians we, beseeching the moon her unearthy feminine

pieces of me, pieces of you, strewn in directions not able to connect

I stayed young in getting old and before you know it, you’re no longer there

hunched over youth, abundant in dream, filled with need

chewing the heads off time, gnawing the bones of ancestors who disapprovingly gaze

instead you have learned to bottle your desire that the world create girls who love

from marigolds and pieces of ourselves cast to the wind

put it somewhere you won’t be ridiculed, join the line of other pursuits, a job, a direction, all taking me away from fantasy becoming true

the lines on my face, the fall of my skin, these things that shock and horrify

only remind me of what I once was, bright teeth, shy smile, large heart, empty pockets

how I longed for you to take my mittened hand in yours and

drag me out of myself, let me know you don’t have to fit in with the crowd

to feel love

in petrograph, in Kodak camera moments, in the unmade bed in the corner of my desire

I wanted you before you could put words to desire

I was born alone in my 1 or 2 percent of the world

a girl who loves other girls

yet it wasn’t plural, it feels when I touch it

circular

as everything I did and everything I lost

returns to this moment and winds around my wrist

showing my scars, developing an image in chemicals

of two girls even if they had to wait

after the storm and before the calm

did I mention I would stay here forever if I had to?

It is my wish we could rewind time and begin again when both of us

were new and shining

but such things are not always possible, and fantasy is rarely permitted her turn

in you I find proof of life

miracles, however tired exist in your eyes

they have fine lines like you are ever squinting against the sun

I find myself tracing the shape of you

over and over

until my fingers are numb with joy

maybe born too late, but oh we were born

in this aching world of few and far between

I listened closely and you gave up your song

From basket deep

Clamboring, chiming, turning inside out for lack of space

Urging in one cold grey wave of fur and teeth

Lolling tongues, hot breath, slobber and frenzy

From a distance, life resembles a dark river

Cutting through early frost, hungry for warmth

And I think of the man who paints this bleeding scape

Of land into water and flesh undulating, back to earth

I wonder if he knows better than us, how close we are to one or the other

By just a pinch of his ink stained fingers, held up

To guage perspective, before he dips his brush and renders

This mist of mouths, graves and birth and sour roots, twisting through

Surviving even as skies douse and sun bakes flat, yet beneath myriad

A soup of souls closing and opening by ritual of tide

And still, life, clops down the cobbled street, hawking seasons from basket deep.

(Inspired by FEDERICO GARCÍA LORCA, especially the line, han venido los perros de plomo.)

Mercy

Though we were afraid
We stood

Though we trembled

We reached

Though we feared falling

We let go

Though you are far 

You caught me

Though you were struggling

You held on

Though we both felt we couldn’t

We did

And the light that bathed our rebirth

Was a mute white

And the song in our mouths

Was of gratitude

And my loved ones passed over

Clambored from their soil and Ash

As beautiful as children again

Clasping my empiness 

They claimed me anew

Standing on the bridge

One side darkness and dusk

Extinguisher of all I was

The other side golden 

You have been so missed they chorused

And at first I couldn’t bear the feeling

Surging in me like a hundred hands

But they held firm, did not let me run, did not excuse me

No death did not stop us

No life is not meant to be half lived

One foot peering over the edge

And when the bird

Red breasted and full

Flew into my room and cast his burning glow

I lifted from my expiry

I left there on the bed

My tears

My certainty of nothing

And light as a dream 

Flew outside

Feeling as if the very first

The pinch of fresh air

Brighten grey

Banish terror

Unplug disease

Renew hope

Lifting their hands to heaven

All those I thought lost

Remind me anew

You are so loved

Cone back to life

Cross the bridge

Watch isolation fade

As a dark ship will receed in fog

All was but a dream

This hand in yours

This family forsook

You are still standing

Even as landscape burned

Your strength found 

In the deep roots of a patient tree

Invulnerable to life’s petty whim

Endure and overhead

Watch the season turn on her slim ankle

And fill us with color

I have been waiting all this time

For permission to breathe deeply

And exhale 

Letting go of fear and the unknown

For those who are never lost

Keep us tethered to the living 

Even as they cross

To wonderment