watching the moon

 

you are on your own

with a life that belongs

to no one–

and that is more than okay.

 

what do I believe in?

I believe in truth,

the elements,

digging underneath the dirt

of lies we have been hiding

underneath our skin,

feeding one another

 

with or without realizing it

your soul

is the soul of the Gods,

the air you take in

as you step outside,

the sky shading you from the universe above

the earth underneath your feet

tell me that you can live without this;

tell me that this isn’t life itself.

 

you are made out of flesh and bone,

truth and more truth

layered one on top of the other

if you forget your way,

remember that it probably wasn’t your way

to begin with.

 

the way is empty;

the way is full of life.

 

and that life is surrounding you,

always.

 

April 9, 2017

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Watching the Night

Have I ever gazed

a sight like this?

Third (fourth) floor?

Window sill?

Moon shining like a teardrop

ready to fall from above?

 

Well, no.

It will stay in its place.

All you must do

is spread your wings

and fly up there yourself, darling.

 

You have nothing to fear.

 

It is just a New York street,

an Upper Manhattan merengue

playing off in the distance.

 

What does that sound, taste, scent of doubt

have on this essence of consciousness?

 

We are here together, on this main stage.

 

It keeps turning,

we keep turning,

your mind keeps turning

let it be what it is.

Feel it.  Nod, let it go.

 

Patience is hidden in the smile of the moon,

offered by the silence of her sister sun

she remains, shining brighter in the darkness

and not afraid of her beauty, either.

 

The real miracle

is knowing how to watch the show

and not become it;

the moon does this for us every night

brushes her lips against the sky

I can see it shining–

a smile reflected in the stars.

 

No, I cannot see them above the diner sign

but I can hear them:

whispers of light

burning through the galaxy

reminding us

that we do not understand time, just yet.

 

July 12, 2016

Eclipse

One

must read

the signs

carefully,

my child–

it is not every day

the sun

and moon

touch lips

and then part ways.

 

Do no let one

chase the other

in vain–

follow

their footsteps

into the sky

and realize

your own emptiness,

your own infinity,

your own basic goodness

stretching out

like a smile

over the pale blue

horizon.

 

December 26, 2015

Pen and Paper

The connection

of paper on pen

makes me want

to believe again

in life,

in love.

 

If two souls

can touch

so silently

and still leave

such a mark,

what is to come

of us, my dear?

 

I can deny fate

like sinners laugh at God;

I can wake at dawn

and see only moon, not sun.

 

We can wander forever,

looking for the ink–

the touch of pen on paper,

a love that saves, not sinks.

 

November 5, 2015

My Sister and I

A few seconds left

of number nine

waiting for now…

if it comes.

Yes, it’s here

I rush out of there

to my place,

where I can be alone-

but no,

there’s still that raincloud

above me whenever I’m there,

when the sun sets

and the moon glows

that dragon is under me.

When sunlight fills my window

she is over me;

When I am anywhere,

she’s there.

Bur if she wasn’t…

I wouldn’t.

If she disappeared in the moonlight

I’d be the cloud,

lifting her up

and although we’d be gone…

we’d be together, forever.


September, 2004
I wrote this poem in seventh grade amd recently found it in a long-lost journal.

Darkness

My friend once said,
“The scariest thing
is looking at a mirror in the dark.”

She got me thinking–
do I think that is scary?

Do you?

I glance down a narrow hallway,
midnight light etching out
the shadow of a moon
on the back wall,
and wonder why,
so often,
our reflections scare us so.

Sitting down with a friend,
I can hold her hand,
touch her cheek,
knowing that in one moment
I can offer my ear
and know
that it is enough.

Why can I not offer my heart
the same love?

Darkness is an inevitable partner,
disguised in dirt and anguish
it is only off looking for it’s long lost brother;
Light cannot be asked to search alone.

As I walk towards the moon,
I know that it’s light will spread in both directions:
inwards, returning love to itself,
and outwards,
steadily marking my way
towards the hallway mirror.

 

Tomorrow I will be starting a weekend-long “technology cleanse,” so instead of a poem per Saturday and Sunday, here is just one, now.

August 13, 2015