Barely touching the ground

I am a tree growing up-side down

My crown barely touching the ground

Just enough for little frightened birds

To seek shelter under from the eagles.

I am a tree growing up-side down

My roots securely fastened above.

But it is so far away…

It is unfair, I have realized that now,

Comparing all love to the one I am planted in.

No one will ever live up to it.

Maybe that is why I will always be just a little bit lonely.

They all say I am an Angel…

It rains when I cry; stars come out when I am alone.

Maybe that is why they mistake my leaves for wings.

But I am a tree growing up-side down

And I sprout beautiful flowers in the spring.

Otherwise, why on earth would I be here?

But don’t you realize… when you touch me…

Your touch reaches further than you think

And when you make me cry…

My tears come from somewhere far away…

So be gentle, be kind, and accept that I might always be

Just a little bit lonely… even with your arms around me.

I am a tree growing up-side down

My crown barely touching the ground

Just enough for you to reach

When you stand

on your toes.

Angels can’t love

I walk into the shop I’ve been to many times before.

But now I am someone else.

I see them in there.

Those who come from the past.

They look different.

They see me.

Eyes opening wide.

They see me.

They see that I am beautiful.

More beautiful than before.

They walk over to me.

They want to be close to me.

Arms reaching for me.

That is when I see him.

Something passes between us.

A movement.

But he is not the one to protect me

when the war comes.

When the machine guns come.

Someone else steps in front of me.

I wait for death.

But it doesn’t come.

I see him again.

He is kneeling down.

Someone points a gun at me.

I start crying.

Wings slowly grow

from his shoulder blades.

The soldiers smile and nod their heads.

“Finally,” they say.

“That is what it took.”

They lay down their guns.

I am still crying.

I am safe.

But I am not loved.

Angels can’t love humans.

Not the way we need to be loved.

Exclusively. Exceptionally.

As though we were the only one

needing to be loved

by them.

*This is actually a dream I had while sleeping.

From a fallen leaf to a Rose petal

You say you are afraid of losing consciousness

Every time you close your eyes you disappear

From the world into darkness.

You say you are afraid of being conscious

Of your own beating heart and human breath

Ephemerally moving to fall.

But have you ever considered that within

The same quiet darkness,

Within the same stream of consciousness

A seasonless awareness flows effortlessly

Remembering every moment you held

Where every breath rejuvenated

A new spring destined to make you flower

From darkness,

Giving form and color to the most

Memorable season of all:

Your beating heart, your human breath.

Moments you touch with your fingertips,

Touch them with wonder, not with fear.

They are the hands that will

Rise you up from the dreaded motionless river

That made you and that will remake you

From a fallen leaf to a rose petal

In the quiet darkness you carry within.

Night Blooming Jasmine

Sometimes when night comes

You wish

You were a wildflower

Tucked away in a forest field

Patiently waiting

To grow towards the light.

But your dreams are different.

Your wishful thoughts

Have always seemed too old

For your tender years.

But if you stay awake

And challenge your fears

You will see that you, my friend,

Are a Night Blooming Jasmine

Whose love is as vast

As the night’s layers of darkness,

Your heart’s soft petals

Unfolding the sweetest sense

Of home,

And you will discover

That you already are

Where you truly belong.

The Quarrel in your mind

The quarrel in your mind is

This promise of a firstborn miracle.

An accumulation of lyrical trailing thoughts

Rustling in the damp light.

A year’s precise fear is

Paralyzed by peace rippling

Into a chrysalis of extinguished time.

The rest is dissolved by beginnings.

A small wing twinkles delicately

As it slips through the weave

Of confounded memories

Washed away by too many

Perfect sunsets.

An extension of his dream

The rain has merged into solitude

The moon stares straight into dawn

Like a an anchored searchlight.

The wet wind has frozen the lines

Around his unchanged laughter

Reaching for me in his sleep;

An extension of his dream

Searching for a bare shore

 Where troubled waves

Can merge into the familiar crescendo

Of sand and sea.