As if the elevation of her cheekbones
wasn’t enough to catch the eye
As if the prim and whimsy clash on her tongue
didn’t pause the passersby
As if the swish of a brush could command any more
than the supple glistening of those jowls
As if the curve and swipe of a vibrant hue might
draw in deeper the captive scowl
As if the blush of her grin didn’t move the clouds
and cause all storms to seize
As if the float of her hymn didn’t quiver the bones
and lower the saints to their knees
Still, never a day could spend its time without
succumbing to the witnessing
The adornment of Heaven’s earthbound kiss
… but a veil upon splendor’s being
~ In memory of Grandmother ~
Photo Credit: Rouge And Lipstick Still Life painting by Phyllis Tarlow
Never as forgiving, and still,
your shadow casts a light.
The might of your tone always
lured my spirit home, wishing
to meet in the secret of night.
In our essence is the fight;
your entitlement to authority
and my self-preserving right
to be free of such.
Neither of us wanted much, but
your ruling hand was heavy and
the needs I missed were steady,
causing both of us to run from
what we loved.
Only He above understood
the bond within the distance and
every instance of my life that
felt not quite right because
your impression was incomplete.
All these spaces searching
all those faces and shallow hearts
in lonely places, hoping
there was one who held
like your embrace.
How could I refill what I didn’t taste?
Both fathers out of reach,
neither afforded the royal seat –
no palace in these ruins
to host court;
only singe and rubble,
the tumbles and fumbles
that knocked the solid grounding
from my grip.
None of them were passing ships,
but hollow shells that felt like crypts,
as I tossed and turned and tried
to make them fit.
No one wears like you…
So, in your final hours let me
slip into your power and melt
into the nature of your hold.
Leave what’s written in ago;
in this moment here behold,
you are the only man I’ve loved
with all my soul.