Pen in Motion

I saw the sun finally,

stretching through the clouds –

reaching down to me with all its might

to push back the storm

attempting to usurp control.

Like Kronos and Zeus and that hullabaloo.

And I even felt warmth

as I waited for a hint of light

on my face.

Those somber clouds don’t look

so bad anymore,

with the glimpses of that burning star,

so far from my world,

and yet close enough to part the gloom

and bring me hope.

I saw a tattoo today that reminded me of life –

 supposed to be a tree with branches

reaching up

and roots digging deep underground.

I know the roots are black

for a reason,

but it got me thinking about us,

people and society

and all the darkness we try to hide

where no one can see.

Or maybe we think no one can see it.

We try to show off our light

and keep the darkness below the ground,

you know,

what lies beneath the dirt.

But that’s our roots –

all hurt and black and bruises and stuff

we don’t want to acknowledge.

But maybe we’re hiding less from others

and more from ourselves.

But that’s our roots and we gotta deal with it eventually,

or the dark will eventually show up

in our branches

and block out all that great sunlight.

There we are,

all parts of us,

with our colors showing,

running like our life depended on it.

And maybe that’s how it is.

Maybe every breath and heart beat

and thought depends

on our love of the hunt.

We fix our eyes, bare our teeth,

and life surges like a rainbow,

every shade of passion pushes our steps

until all we know

is the exhilaration of the chase.

If I were to jump from this bridge,

would you try to catch me?

The canyon below is both bed and tomb

for those who dare to defy gravity.

Would you risk your life

to touch me one last time,

or would you stay safely on this trestle?

Such a grand expanse of concrete

and cable, man-made

and full of power and innovation.

I wonder if this canyon ever connected

before some genius engineer

dared to dream something as grand

as this bridge.

And now, here we are,

connected by someone else’s invention,

standing on

another man’s greatness.

Now what?

Precious and red –

describes my hair far better

than my heart.

My hair glistens, but the other has scars –

two divorces,

one bully of an ex-husband,

failed lovers,

lies, and even friends carved a few gashes.

But in the rearview mirror

of my new used car, I see a lighter image –

a smiling woman

who has forgotten about the lover

who never acknowledged her,

or the friend who spread lies because she could.

It’s not there in the mirror.

That woman is free, crowned in sun light.

I thought about you today,

on this day that belongs to thousands

or millions of other people,

but also you because it’s when you left.

Departed.

Passed.

Died.

However you want to say it.

You left and now they share the day.

El dia del muerto –

what it’s about now for me.

I don’t like to think about your death,

but sometimes it feels like

it’s all I’ve got.

I used to celebrate a birthday,

on that day,

but then the marriage died.

He’s still around and we talk, but it’s different now.

I’m not there to make him

eat birthday cake and open a present.

Another muetro.

Maybe this day is all about the dead.

I want to have more in my head for you than this day –

I want better memories

than how your last breaths sounded,

and how I just wanted

to close my eyes and imagine something else.

And now here we are,

on this day about non-life and I would rather

do anything else

than remember your leaving.

Maybe we can just forget

about this day

and I’ll remember your birthday instead.

Ex-Machina –

basically a movie

about a woman who screws

over two men and gets away with it.

I can relate sometimes.

I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,

but it just happened that way.

I’m not completely like her –

I’m real.

I can’t be programmed to manipulate,

to break someone’s heart

or be heartbroken.

That’s just how things happen.

But I was trapped like her,

so I killed my marriage and escaped.

Maybe we are alike.

Here I am,

at the beginning,

waiting for the dawn

to open her eyes

and cast some light in my direction.

The muses have remembered

their purpose

and touched my hand.

My pen demands attention,

and words like water

fall like stains on the paper.

Morning will give way

to the full day,

when the sun is in all its glory.

Yesterday is gone,

and I can breathe again.

I am awake. I am awake. I am awake.

You chose me –

my God, my King,

from among every woman

of my people –

every woman

of Your world.

Humble and pure

was my heart in Your eyes;

simple but grand

was Your plan for my life.

A daughter of kings,

a lineage of purpose –

set apart in the womb

to be a vessel for You.

Filled with your love

and spirit to grow hope

for all men –

Your son and my Savior.

A promise to all nations,

all generations.

You chose me

so that one day

I could choose you

** Another product of my MFA program (poetry workshop)

Ride like the wind silver champion

of four-legged warriors.

You thrive on the memories

of your forefathers,

living in the moment

through stories told by spirits

whose hands never clawed the dirt.

Shake the earth like thunder

when you fly across the plains.

Your mane glistens like liquid gold –

gripped by the wind

with every step, every pace, every gallop.

Make for the hills

and celebrate your freedom

under the stars where you came

into this world,

and where you will someday

join the forerunners of your legacy.