The Fountain of Youth

laughing, chackling, giggling, snickering

the giddy sounds of her mirth,

flow and burst

from her

easily.



Patiently Waiting

Patiently waiting
for love's arrival.
The longing aches,
burning slowly.
Though the expectation of my wanting excites me,
it's love's absence that makes my soul dull.
Why does it tarry?
Is it strolling along,
frollicking amongst other lovers?
Or does it run,
racing with rage,
hearing my heart's beat calling with it's every step?
The emptiness I feel is deep,
cutting down to the very marrow of my existence.
And only love will fill it's void.
There's no sufficient substitute,
for it's luster
will be only ephemeral.
Will love make it's home
in this house of solitude?
Will the cries of my longing for love
be drowned by the sound of its
knocking at my spirit's door?
Patiently, I'm waiting
for love to make it's grand entrance.

Lost and Found

I dreamed of an ocean last night

And you were there.

You were so sure.

I was there, somewhere nearby

Waiting for the billow that would bring me to you.

Meanwhile, a sun beam

Took and warmed me, the world around me, bringing calm to my frigid current.

You stood still and serene, content and complete.

Waiting.

You were so sure.

I caught a glimpse of you.

And I knew I would be consumed.

All I could see was your beautiful cyan. 

I was captured and blued and suddenly I began to move.

You were moving closer, your tide pulling in to me.

You were so sure.

In the surge, something happened,

As your protective sapphire and my free indigo merged

and became a flowed violet and purposed.

Our beautiful estuary dawned

Like the sunrise that gave me life.

We were lost and found.

I dreamed of an ocean last night

And you were there.

You were so sure.

And as I awaken, so am I.

A Mothers Love

I came to you with my burdens,

Asking for your help.

You told me to, “Pray.”

And I became angry.

I think I expected something different.

I wanted you to reach down in the maternal region your heart was supposed to enclose

And return with a masterpiece of divine and practical wisdom.

I wanted lofty words,

Magical remedies,

Fancy modern guidance,

Sprinkled with humor and attention.

But instead

            You told me to, “Pray.”

And my heart grew cold.

I didn’t want to pray.

I wanted you to have the answers.

So in my anger,

 I decided to nurture my growing aches and pains

And contribute further into my confusion.

I was mad at you.

I thought, What kind of mothers hears the woes of her child and simply tells her to pray?

I wanted your words

To be the analgesic my sore heart needed.

I wanted you to kiss it and make it all better.

I wanted you to fix it and tell me it would be ok.

Because that’s what mothers do.

Instead

            You told me to pray.

So I did, begrudgingly.

I asked God why he gave me a mother like you.

In my bitter rage

I asked why you hated me so much, that you wouldn’t even give me an answer

And flip me off with what I thought was haphazard, generic advice.

I asked Him  why you were giving me such a hard time.

And as the hot tears streamed down my face,

Sitting still with my clenched fists and stiffened spirit,

He showed me why

you didn’t have all the answers I sought.

You told me to pray

Because your mother told you to pray.

You told me the best answer you knew.

So when the day comes where my child will need answers

When she approaches me requesting the solutions to her problems,

When she wants lofty words,

Magical remedies,

And fancy, modern guidance,

sprinkled with humor and attention.

            I will tell her to pray.

Because that’s what good mothers do.