What You Seek

How will you find it 
Where will you go
It’s not just outside of that door
It’s not in the sing-song 
The hoping to belong
You won’t find it pacing the floor 

I suspect but don’t know
It’s there for receiving
If all at once we take a breath
Take one step then the next
To rewrite the old text
And treat it like it’s life or death 



The Sun, as she sets, sighs to the New Moon:
“You’ve the right to not love me, but I fell to your swoon.”

That Tide, ebbing slowly, seems to tease the gold Shore:
“I’ve welcomed your warmth but I seek Something more.”

In the meantime, Earth’s Hearts sense these rhythmic rains;
“We’ll dance, most courageous, with Passion and Pain.”

Courting Anger: A Writing Prompt

I’m encouraged to channel my anger, 

to sit with it. Take it to tea. 

“So, you’re real,” I’d say, half looking away, hoping it would not take note of me. 

“Is this about the table I bought you for Valentine’s Day?” I’m sure it would respond, looking at me in its superior way. “Because I was sick of looking at the other one,” it’d quip. 

Sigh. Seeing its sad state of insight

and a lack of rhythm or kind goal,

“I release you,” I’d murmur, feeling more self-assured, “but I’ll take back my eyes, mind and soul.”