I’m sad like a leftover quart of rainbow sherbet purchased on last October’s last sizzling-hot day
I burst out of the schoolhouse that Autumn afternoon, determined to hold fast to my gratitude for the sun and the heat that’s fleeting that time of year
My only goal, to fight back against the falling back that steals my morning sunlight, even when I’m mindful
The temperature dropped the very next day, as did my heart, as did my interest in the rainbow, interest in the heat, my interest in the sherbet.
It’s almost June now, is just how sad
And so the bus took me
Careened into my path and made me say goodbye long before I’d feel able
The undercurrent drew my name
Encircled my entrenched legs, thinking, “Why wait another night?”
Here I live now
No where to sit except pretty
No place to swim but the deep
None ticket nor tide table in hand
These things are not needed
The thief has arrived, long in advance, and the theft has already begun
The all-too-familiar strategy…make them concede before sunrise
Their sleep, their breath, the hope for warmth today
NOW comes this, as it has, since before the beginning of time
The River Continuum -a respite, of sorts…a shimmering place, just for peace
Inhale the heat, take back the Now that is here
I no longer tread
To such treacherous places
With maniac men
We didn’t want to know her
We wanted to be her
Certain we were her, we danced
Amidst the flames of our heart, we danced
Weaving, as dreamers do
Our story with yours
We picked up the pen
With aching hands, but ink anew
We stayed still, in Once-Upon-a-Time fashion
Hoping to make the one day we’d meet
The happy afterall
Come truer
Said the bad Iris
Stay away, smart-mouthed Tulips
Come, sweet Impatiens
There is this
Justice
Woven into our hands
Spin this into gold, we will
Despite the untenable hands we’ve been dealt
Despite the phantom hands we feel
Extended to us, then taken away
You were as a fiery thing
Burning
Moving
Closer
I had to double-check
Closer
I said with laughter that only I was meant to hear
Yet you came nearer
Don’t question me then, when I ask
How is it you hear?
How is it I see?
Calling all muses
Know that Wicked Wit’s amused
You are being used
Saying, “Shave,” seems sexier
Whittle is what it was and is
These troubles
These worries of war within
Away
No more
Summer has been here
Shrouded all along….
Original thought credit: David Houston; “Gonna Lay Down My Burdens”
LisaRosier.com 