Sun

You are a star in a sky I have not seen,

you are a drop of rain in a hundred deserts

and desserts

because walking in the rain can be fun

with ice cream and an umbrella, no?

Your voice plants bits of light under my skin,

your slender frame and well-styled hair

have me wanting more.

You are some kind of fire that speaks

the same language as my Earth– the one

with floating flowers and talking sponges,

the one where Reggie Rocket gets us in trouble

and girls kiss girls at midnight in brightly lit squares

and everything is alright.

Because I’d want to call you baby.

Because, hell yeah, I’d make love to you and I’d fuck you

but do you seriously think I could do one without the other?

You’ve got me smiling ear to ear, wanting more of your story,

your moments, your rush because I know you’ve felt it, too–

with some lucky woman in another room,

where you lit only candles and talked in only whispers.

I would never be quiet about you, unless you wanted me to.

And I can sing your praises now, my mysterious friend,

but you deserve more than words. They do not do you justice.

To your sexy eyes and smooth skin, your laugh bouncing off

subway cars and driveways and street lamps– I wish I could

dance along with it forever, and I’d be willing to,

if it meant having you.

I put you up on a pedestal because that’s where you belong.

Your style is bad ass and your humbleness is hot and your words

have me wanting more, more…because for all your physicality,

I could listen to you speak, no sight, no vision, for days.

You are a star and a sun

because, of course, there was never any difference.

Expect that there is only one sun,

among many stars,

and how lucky I am to get to soak you in at all.

 

January 29, 2019

Rain

It’s awfully scary

to be locked up in some dark skin,

feel the twirling of your insides —

in and out

this nervous energy

is moving me —

finding a way out

is so easy

so easy

to do

I’ve heard it before

but I still feel it trickling,

tinkling,

tinkering with my mind

and reminding it of its limits.

 

Be here.

 

You know where the tension is.

 

Sit with it,

recognize it,

allow life to be as it is,

investigate with kindness,

and non-identification.

http://www.tarabrach.com/wp-content/uploads/pdf/RAIN-of-Self-Compassion2.pdf

October 9, 2017

Riverside Park

Some days,

my eyes drift down like leaves

falling to the ground

they do not fight the wind

they say, “Thank you,” and move on.

 

Others,

they cry–

and don’t even know why–

it doesn’t feel like rain

it just feels like a mess I have made.

 

Listen as I run.

 

Footsteps left behind

they will fade with time

the sunset is the only direction I am headed in,

no matter the feeling

I keep moving

for life is about flowing with the storm,

even when it’s in your mind.

 

May 1, 2016

One for Love

A gentle tap.

A slight placement

of a hand,

carefully, on my back.

Eyelids perched

on radiant,

story-layered skin.

The sound

of your kiss

like the rain;

the taste

of your breath,

a summer wind.

Your gaze

tells me you have

everything,

right here.

I trace your lips

to remind you

I am

only extra.

 

January 27, 2016

Voice

Feel my voice

like a finger plucked across a rubber band

vibrations ringing through the air

breaking no twilight, no dawn,

only silence.

 

If you were so blessed

with a voice– use it!

 

Proudly, wisely, powerfully,

thoughtfully,

because a voice transfers more than words,

it moves worlds

from brain to tongue,

words I’m not always sure of

 

But I am sure of this:

I have a voice,

not an echo

 

mine, my own

to treasure and to keep

not locked-up in a chest

but drawn out, into the open,

 

like rain drops falling onto grass.

 

May 11, 2014