memory fragment

Your memory is carved into me.
It cannot be undone, nor,
would I wish it to be.

What is it about our past that
continues to keep itself tied to us?

Is it the prospect of our youth
and what we could have done with it?

Is it promises we failed to keep
or ones we should have broken?

I woke up with the melody in mind
and the words were already singing through me
Beautiful words still hold me warm
These cold nights thinking of other days

Not as young as we once were
Not as old as we'll one day be
Caught here between lives
Wistful thoughts of long gone days
Memory the reminder
Of all things we'd thought forgotten
Touch of our hands on each other
Kisses in afternoon light
Lying in the grass
And the light shines on
Whether we are here or gone

A language I can hear but
cannot understand.
Words of praise and healing-
your voice touches me
raises me to awareness

biographical fragment

There is no story left to tell that has not been told
but I'll still tell you mine. My flight landed in
Cancun where some relatives picked me up from
the airport. It was hot and humid the moment I
stepped outside the terminal. I could smell the
land itself and I immediately felt at ease. It was
just about sunset as we drove out from the city
to our destination, our hometown, a couple of
hours away. I intently watched the way the sky
loomed perfectly over the forest. I had never
felt the sky feel so ancient and towering. At that
moment I understood why it would have been
easy to believe in a pantheon of gods and goddesses.
The sunset quickly gave way to a darkness that
filled the roads. From time to time we would pass
through a small town. The lights of the square
would be lit as people lounged around the park
and whiled away the time. This scene repeated
itself in every town we saw. By the time we
arrived at my grandparents home it was late
and most of the town was asleep. Warm hellos
after years of not seeing each other were given.
We ate bread and eventually found our way
to sleep.

My thoughts are carried 

        away by the wind

Now I cannot say

                  what

if any of them 

                        remains

Don't blame beauty for anything.
What did Beauty ever do to you?
Did Beauty lead you on?
Your expectations are your own.
Beauty isn't biased, it just is.

...falling through the ceiling of your dreams.

I want you to know that I remain here
less joyful, less whole
than if you were
here sharing a silence by my side.

My mind is a cluttered museum
covered in dust.

My heart is a machine that beats
in and out of time.

My hands grasp that which cannot
be eternally held.

Haunted by nothing-

what fear remains?

You should ask the mirror to stop talking,

it's very distracting.

I know what I wish to say

I know what I want you to read

I know what I want to type

but I'll refrain

I'll refrain and keep this to myself.