Never was

i.

You take the stage

timid

afraid

of your own voice.

Your resolve wavers

in a quaking spotlight

sigh and silence

the piano picks up

and you begin to sing

ii.

She weaves a net of reality for herself

a cocoon

to keep her safe from

the smell of wet dirt

and a butterfly

sitting of a clump of soil in a potted plant,

injured and drowning slowly in sugared water.

She pulls these strings

together

Binds her soul tighter

and steps out into the dark

iii.

Why do what you do not love, darling?

Or do you love it,

pain aside?

An exquisite torture

timebomb ticking

off the seconds of exposure

Did the light blind you, child?

You are as much me as I ever was

Never was much

iv.

Resounding rejoinder and lament

a pure voice tainted

high in clear air

Your flight is arrested

cresting clouds and love and beyond

the horizon

a new world is waiting

opening

in strong lights

the curtain pulls aside

and you own this stage,

like my soul,

as yourself.

5 a.m.

Five a.m. finds me, Friday morning,
Like a long lost lover,
whose ship sunk at sea.
The embrace is weary
heavy on my shoulders
enlightening my racing heart
and mind
[(floating free
and
Drowning down)
A simultaneous conundrum]
Early morning takes me further
into predawn thoughts;
Falling asleep
and melting into
dew.

They had nothing to say to each other

They had nothing to say to each other.
Quite simply, they had exhausted all possible phrasings, rebuffs and and rebuttals. They sat on the cold front stoop of their solitary cabin, nestled amidst dramatically colored maples.
She sighed.
He turned, glancing at her over his shoulder. The sun was rising behind her, creating halos, making her angelic. The sigh that had escaped from her lips clouded in the late October air, swirling towards the cloudless sky. Why could she not understand? It was not his choice to go away. Leaving was one of the last things he wanted to do. But the paper crumpled in his pocket declared that he must.
He sighed, stretching, shivering from the brush of cold air around his belly, his neck, as his bomber jacket shifted with him. The concrete they sat on was cold, and frosted leaves crunched underfoot as he extended his legs. Could he run away? No. If he ran she be be as equally forbidden as if he went to where he was bid. He encircled her shoulders in his arm, entangled a hand in straight caramel hair. She leaned into him, breathing the sharp fall air, the old leather of his jacket, the faintest whiff of his cologne.
They had talked all night. She was tired, scared but accepting. There was no option in which he stayed. In any case, given a few months, her own summons would come, and she would answer the door, peering out into the hard noon light, into the stern faces of the officers who had come, finally, to take her away.
She reached her arm, untangling his hand from her hair, intertwining her fingers with his. She stood, bringing him with her, back through the door of the cabin, back up the stairs to the unslept-in bed. She placed a cool hand on his cheek, and they looked each other in the eyes. She nodded and he crumpled into her shoulder, crying. She led him to the edge of the bed, and sat beside him.
They would be woken by the harsh rappings at the cabin door, hours later. He would answer the summons now, and she would follow meager months later. They would meet again, in the city, the smog filled dome, no longer the same, still not strangers, but not quite friends.

Jerusalem Winter

Amidst the mist, a rainbow in the lights of the city,

prolonged joy melding with ever present

sadness

longing

a sense of urgency

drawing breath

and slow exhale.

Cold.

filling

as time and space

collide and in confusion, we repeat

raze and rebuild

raze and raise

Streets reveal countless memory and history

together we walked

in glory

and exile

swarming gateways and bridges

searching for an in

Golden Jerusalem,

washed and rainshined,

May I forget my own right hand

if I forget you,

and my tongue cleave to my palette,

so the I may sin(g) no more.

and so the mist rises,

raze and rebuild

be raised,

be rebuilt.

Apology

This is an apology for my behavior.

I am sorry. I didn't know. But somehow, it seems, in my ignorance I have been more than I at first comprehended. I am sorry for the times I have resented being relied upon. For the times I was evasive and did not try to maintain a connection, and rather depended on what remained to outlast and be there, ready to be dusted off when convienient. It seems I was a life preserver, a shield and a diary. And entirely unaware.

You have shown me the separation between everyone's perceptions. I thought I was a passive aggressive flake for four years. You say I am a "true friend."

Perception.

Life is all about perception.

And I will not forget that again.

Thank you for the reminder. I'll keep it close to me.

Guilt

This not the storm I expected. Guilt holds me, because of my bad advice, my presumptions. Anything to help her get better. Right. Anything not to make it worse.

"It"- unclear pronoun reference. How many times spent as a trigger, as the domino to send the rest of them down? Twice, that I can, beyond doubt, put to myself. A third time, maybe, but who knows.

Anything to keep her safe.

But maybe there's what I can't help, what I can't control.

Children grow up, don't they? I mean, every parent has to deal with this, right?
You can only be there as much as time permits. As long as they'll allow you to listen. I can't make their decisions for them.


I can barely make decisions for myself.

______________________________

Maybe we need to re explore the difference-- the divide-- between wants and needs. And really, really, define heartbreak, because I think that's a hyperbole here.

Maybe we should put life in perspective. Even if we don't need to feel guilty for our misdemeanors doesn't mean we should continue, just because it's not a fullfledged crime.

But why do I feel guilty for crimes I did not commit?
..........................................................

Take a deep breath, a moment.

I think for myself.
I create myself.
I live for more purposes than I can fathom,

And


I love you.

Rhetoric

Sometimes your movements are too practiced
_and hence I cannot heed your words
_the precise snaking out of the wrist
__to emphasize a point
To my eye
_the motion appears in time lag
_with the words
_ as happens when the audio track
_does not match the visual track
I am disconcerted
_ already uncomfortable
__in rehearsal
_before we donned
__blue robes
_before we marched down
_the slanted aisle
For the last
________dreaded
performance
______of our high school careers