Night of Long Shadows
The sky wept like a baby.
The earth swelled up.
The moon stood witness.
The wet street glistened.
Crossing the road a grotesque
Man played chicken
With the beasts on wheels
In the rain-soaked street.
The cold, wet flowers and trees
Offered their gift,
A fragrance only
The rain could awaken
To the night of long shadows.
Stumbled Into My Dream
I recognized her face
when she stumbled
into my dream. Just
another day, flowers
in her curly hair.
“Don’t stare. It’s not
polite,” she said.
I tried to stroke her hair
with my sleepy hand.
“Don’t stare at me,”
she said again.
The blue spring sky
turned black. The
flowers in her hair wilted.
We were both in tears.
“You must not stare,”
she said. “I really must
go in a little while.”
I waved goodbye to her.
My heart was in my throat.
The Whispering Quiet Spirit
with my ashes resting in an urn.
Soft ashes, weightless, like rose
petals, like my spirit living on.
The light has gone out. I walk up
and down the stairs aimlessly.
The wind pushes me around. It
inhales and exhales me all night.
The chirping stars frighten me.
Everyone walks through me.
I am taken for granted all over
again. A bee buzzes my ear as
I walk on the grass. The sun drops
its light on me. I cannot feel it.
I cannot smell the perfume of
flowers as they open and close.
I am light as eyelashes. My ashes
sleep in an urn in a house I never
felt welcome. I am the whispering
quiet spirit making all the noise.
I am light as butterflies, the silence
in the middle of a breath. I don’t
remember happiness. I have always
been open to the possibilities.
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