“We have to dare to be ourselves, however frightening or strange that self may prove to be.” 
― May Sarton

The Way to Love Yourself

Stray poems shadow me   
hungry for crumbs   
from my pocket dictionary   
     
Definitions which would shed     
explanations on their confused     
state of non-existence   
    
You see, I know what it's like     
to be hungry, to shiver in   
the season of homelessness   
with nothing but a rusty roof     
leaking rain barrel tetanus   
    
I know what soles feel like     
calloused from following     
dead-ended dreams   
    
But, here's the thing   
no definition can appease     
that constrictor knot strangling     
air supply from the heart   
    
I would explain, but recall   
shame blocking reason   
before I fully understood;     
so too must you   
    
I remember what survival     
smells like running   
across the bridge   
before it opens its mouth   
to the river's throat   
    
Instead of offering reasons   
for you to carry on--     
I have an extra bed   
bags of beans and rice   
soup and bread   
    
It's not much     
but it's comfort nonetheless     
    
There's nothing     
I can say that will help   
you understand   
the beauty of acceptance   
wearing inequities'   
potato sack dress   
    
Especially if you'd   
rather be somewhere else   
    
This pocket dictionary   
contains nothing   
for the streets   
    
Don't you see   
    
Meanings are     
meaningless   
with frost-bitten   
hands and feet   
    
I have warmth   
but can't explain   
how it's generated;   
I have woolen socks   
but can't explain   
how they're knitted   
    
Surviving in dark alleys   
doesn't mean   
you deserve     
punishment   
    
Corruption creates scar tissue     
it's true; but, circumstance   
is nothing new   
or something unheard of   
within our human veils   
    
We've all been branded 
at some point in this flesh   
and been the better   
for Love having lived it   
    
Don't look for reasons   
where none exist   
    
Share this lot instead   
pass the ink, ruin     
the parchment tablecloth   
and laugh about it   
    
Share stories of how     
spring poems rescued you   
from a winter   
of meaninglessness   
    
How they wrote themselves   
without ever once   
batting an eye   
wondering who   
why--   
or how come   
    
This is the way to Love yourself   
and make a difference:     
    
"Today, get back up"   
no matter circumstance;     
keep going despite pain     
or face it over, and over again   

~
© February 2018   

Cyclic

Darkness parasols Us         
   awaiting light to pour over       
the moist, open earth         
        
Somewhere a clock ticks         
   Milky Way moments       
over a shimmering blue planet         
        
Stars root, their silver beaks         
   pecking in night's coup;      
a crescent banner flies       
        
Your still silhouette , complete --       
   a wholeness of essence         
awakening         
        
I see only you, my purpose         
   and way, bright lights       
dark, lonely streets         
        
My senses register you         
   four-dimensionally       
        
It is Beautiful       
   more than mortal - infinite         

 

The moon is young         
this night a blanket fort         
surrounding Us         
        
We are wonderfully alone         
as we always are just after Love       
        
Bodies crumpled, discarded         
as old clothes on the floor       
        
Our Spirits cyclic, returning         
home faithful as Haley's Comet        
across a sea of dark water       
        
Until morning bids Us sleep       
in our own created reality      
        
~    
© February 2018   

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©2018 - 2019

by TamArtsy