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

Winter

A strong voice;

A tight tongue;

A golden light;

A subtle hum;

A white streak;

A black vase;

A warm hand;

A big mistake;

A brisk wind;

A right wronged;

A lonely night;

A sad song.

 

January 17, 2016

 

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