lilian

lavender, the smile of your eyes;

intransigience, the strength of your dream;

lambent, the force of your presence;

infallibility, the surety of your stance;

alabaster, the purity of your soul;

neverending, your resonance upon my heart.

—-

i don’t remember who lilian was, probably something i read about or met while i was in AMA. 🙂

the rain

dripping from clouds,
like an excuse,
lke an apology of sorts,
i come to appreciate
the lightness of its touch,
bringing to my senses
the smell of newmown
life,
waking the slumbering
scions of scintilla.

—-

6/29/06 — thoughtful about a drizzle…

the appeal

i gave the paper to you,
containing my humiliation,
and you, unapproachable glacier,
to whom all worship must be laid,
you stare as if a giant looking at an ant,
you pinch the parchment
between thumb and forefinger,
and look at the words
forcibly wrenched from me
(my reluctant tongue
fashioned them to fit
your opprobrious ego);
i hang at the two-second silence,
waiting for your verdict,
which come ominously
like an oracle pronouncing doom:
“for filing!”

——

also written 6/28/06 — i remember this, i was filing an appeal to the HRD of the company i worked under and there was this purely obnoxious payroll manager so full of self-importance that she truly reeked of it. everybody hated her except the bigwigs (somehow she was close to top management). this was her, and i haven’t actually begun describing her. 🙂

to see you

i have been sloughed by harrowing
experiences,
that it hurts too much
to raise my head
and turn my eyes in your direction;
the tears come easily,
like a benediction,
like an excuse,
and my skin flinches in recoil,
expecting invisible lashes,
like you have done
to my benumbed heart

—–

written 6/28/06 — during a very depressing stage of my life. too… crude, i think. too raw.

on your return

this distance called absence
from each other’s sight
suffuses me with this disturbing
unnameable fright;

i have been too silent,
allowed this gaze to linger;
would you know me still at meeting,
or would you see a stranger?

i did not want you to behold
this soiled and tarnished soul;
i did not want to lie to you,
so i waited to be whole.

but not all wait is restful,
few things are harsher than time,
and now that you are imminent,
i can’t subdue the chime

that counts the seconds off until
our lifewebs intersect anew;
would you spare a moment to listen
as i present this gift to you —

a soul still scarred and healing,
and a heart and love that’s true;
and this sacred invitation:
to spend eternity with you.

—–

written while on a bus, remembering shayne

sometimes you bleed like pink petals

Sometimes you bleed like pink petals,
Like petals that fall at the onset of rain,
Shaken with the trembling wind,
Shivering with the raindrops,
And how cold your tears how unsalty how unyou…
I come forward but you fend me off,
I come forward but you send me away,
How roselike your silent thorns that prick my fingers,
How cold the rivulets of red you cause to flow,
And symbols upon symbols crash through my head
As the coppery scent overwhelms me,
And the lines on my palm become a crimson map…
We stand apart in an unfathomed distance…

Standing an armslength from me,
You try to walk away but I keep in step,
I seek to complement your oblivious disregard of my presence
With my most devoted attention of you…

I wish I knew how to approach your ivory tower,
How to chase away the invisible cobwebs that surround you,
But no, you spring in revulsion against my extended arms,
You see my hands like invasive serpents: evil, clawed,
And I cringe at the sight of your fear of my touch…

But like the petals of pink spiraling downwards in their fall,
Still you hold me with invisible cords
That steel my resolve and make me return
To kneel once more in supplication,
A knight errant before his holy grail…

Even if you shred me to a thousand petals,
Still would I gladly accept the fate,
For I know that the rain shall vindicate me,
And someday you shall realize
That this paladin had been nothing else but pure before thee.

—–

this is a reposting of a poem. i was thinking about it again lately and about the one who inspired me to write this. when i wrote this she would not talk to me or even acknowledge my presence. now we talk like things never became odd between us… go figure.