Love Letter #54: The Hem

I want to be in the midst
of your sweet presence,
scent of flowers lending grace
to the darkness;
your light
unmatched by constellations

as the breeze of you passes,
I desire
for just a brush of your hem
upon the readiness of my skin.





He painted it red,
deepened the shade
from crimson
to deep sangria
softly tracing intricate lines
around the silhouette
of my feelings.

He left a mark
I can’t wash off,
etched in gold
with unconditional promises,
mementos of his love,
endless and eternally,

His smile is summer
to my eyes;
his eyes, a smile
to concerned lips.
Hands gently clutching

My arms,
my thoughts,
reaching to join his.
Distance is only a noun
between us,
like the stars
and it all comes back
to the heart.



Répondez, S’il Vous Plaît

You can keep my past,
heavy, in your pocket,
my mistakes,
as souvenirs on your mantle;

an impressive repertoire of iniquities,

but, he… he interprets my whispers,
quiets my hunger
with gold-edged pages,

red letters in a book;
shows me the poetry in psalms,
picks me up, shakes off the dust,
turns poets into prophets,
opens hearts like lotus flowers
with just a touch of his hand,
brings bouquets of promises,
in his time,

and I won’t need a watch where I’m going.

When darkness tries to steal me away,
he leads me into the light,
fills my aching spirit,
not with temporary, earthly things,
but, a warmth that moves mountains,
calms streams.

He walks on water,
washes over me
to clean the inside,
the vase,

the vessel
to share my testimony,

follow me.
Follow him.

There are those, like you,
lips that dare to mock his name,
sneer at the very thought of such holiness

and where be you?

In smoldering places
void of dreams,
a pit full of ashes, pitiful you,
seeking me?
Oh, yes,

Misery loves company.



Like Psalms of Spring (Vignette)


Bring to me, sun.
Leave my hair golden
from the warmth of you.
Let mist curl locks,
my shadow stretching,
falling; growing strong
in your presence.
In your rushing wind,
let me be.


May my feet feel firm
on your breaking ground
and every step, steady,
flowered, on fertile soil,
and if it shakes, keep me still.
Make my heart an umbrella;
your rain falling soft,
but abundant,
like rivers
from the heavens.


Let every weeping willow bow,
like me, on these knees
looking up
at the glory of you.
Keep me humble;
songs flowing soft
from quivering lips
upon a wooden flute
and ten fingers
strumming harps
Feed me prophetic language
to lift me higher
and so much closer
to you.




Could I just keep you ,
nestled close
so that nothing dark slips in?;
not a single adverse thought ,
only breezy moments ,
breathing love,

cradling hope
in a blanket of joyous constants

transforming worry
into tranquility,
apprehension into laughter;

the moon
teasing stars,

falling in and out of light.

day 28 in a poem a day in April challenge (for NaPoMo)