Fortune woman
She lives in distance
But near space.
She whispers the wisdom of the gut.
The intuition.
The birth right.
First hurriedly
Then slowly
The pace shifts
Simultaneously.
Her presence brings up the histories
And the will of the future.
Her melody is emotion
Holding you in her palm
Where you cannot deny
Her sense.
Resentment
That first time she saw the Big Dipper
And you laughed at her.
Made her feel small.
How had she not seen it until now?
How had you not? She rarely looked up.
Laugh again— not a nice one
Mean and short
The kind to criticize
And to confuse.
The kind that pretends to know nothing
About her tenderness
That sees her looking down,
Looking in,
But assumes she is fine.
Wants her to be fine.
It is easier that way.
Insecure girl
Searching the cosmos
For a constellation
But coiled into herself.
And there you are
In your own sadness,
Your own insecurity
Laughing at her, at her expense always.
Knowing you’ve seen it
The whole time,
Not willing to share.
Reality offset
Future hoping
Distorted reminiscing
The happiest sad song
Now part of the gut flora
Encoded in my bones
Enchanting daunting life
Perceived
Pretend.
The brave man quiet
Hard to say what he is thinking
Me a woman.
The brave man quiet
Sad inside
Anxious,
Resigned.
The melancholy metastasized.
Feeling everything
And nothing
Fatigued.
The fatigue specific to being a brave man
To only knowing quiet.
Brave men quiet
Once open-hearted boys
Taught how to be brave
By other brave men,
Fathers
Their brothers, friends.
And their mothers?
Where is the room for this man's emotion?
Quiet on the outside
Not the same as quiet within.
When do the brave men cry?
Chilly silence
Calm
As it blizzards
A deaf world
Vulnerable to accidents
And love
Untouched by worse
Quiet wisdom ordinarily locked in closet, attics, cellars, hearts,
Spills out, flows out
Falls with the flakes.
Cold gentle blanket
Making me feel warm
At the beauty
Of the fall.
The falling.
A falling grace.
Snow in spring
Misfitting wonder
I cling to you
The season past
Not wanting change
Event if it means
It could be
Nicer.
Better.
Romantic memory
Blots out the pain
Hyper focus
On the one—good—thing
On the collection of good things
The sweetnesses
The honey
Ignores the swarming bees
Until stung.
Bitten by the bitterness
The Poison, the infection
Hard to stay impartial, balanced
When battling the duality, the stark poles
No balance between them.
This is romance?
Moonlight
Tears glow
Under you
Sparkle wet
Down my cheeks
Dew eyes
Hands feel the wet grass
I sit
In the coolness
Trying to loosen my grip
On expectations,
On the defined path.
Realizing how undefined it can be
If I let it.
The truth
I see the truth
I know it.
Residing in me,
Flowing through the bloodstream
Flowing out of me
Even if not at first.
Sits there and guides me
Even if I don’t like it.
The truth is the guide
To my potential.
Pushing, caring
Doting
Roaring
The intuition
The wisdom.
The cardinal sign.
