Stringed

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A song exists
Not yet written
Waiting to be performed
Blank sheet music pages
Stacked neatly near my soul
Rustling now
My hand swift to assure
Notes forming from the void
Lyrics beginning to choose a voice

Sweet-sad violin
A torrent of dissonance
At last, it’s final note
Wafting far and heaven-ward
What chord progression with this?
Truth gives way
From the most distant place
Near-silent to crescendo
Cello

No Longer Doubting

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What I am is not a pale, pink flower
Yet, it is only January
And such things are all I see

Time taking its sweet time
Just for me
And silvery, sunny days

Sudden smiles at the door
That I am well-trained to hear
And voices I don’t fear

All as if a reminder
To never expect
And to expect after all

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Love Dust

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With what gloves do you handle
Your mother
The one who wonders at you
What pieces of your heart do you hold
For her alone
Will you rise to all she knows you are
And meet her at her pace
Catch her if you can!

With what boots do your walk upon
Your mother
The one who provides for you
What segment of your sinew do you share
For her creatures
Will you champion her air and terroir
And give your dying breath
Back from whence you came!

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All Sin

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“Yes.” I’d reply
Hoping it is you who’d ask
“Be kind?” I’d ask
Hoping it is you who’d reply

“What direction, your view?” I’d inquire
Wishing due East stole your breath
“Due North.” you’d breathe
Wishing, knowing I’d inquire

“Adieu.” I’d hear
Feeling my impending fall
“Surprise!” you fell
Feeling my agony, wanting to hear

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Come, June

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These hallways and hearts
Will miss you
But this
Godspeed
You were born for
Neither let your ears cry
Nor hear goodbye
When you go, you leave
Your heartprint
Here
Take us, also
The Voices we found while together