With windows
I walked to my ledge
Found out inside
What depth I could hide
Too late
Too long.
With flowers
I held out for more
At the brink of each thought
So that seers could smell
No more
No right.
With sky
I woke into day
An open escape
Eyes of an eagle
So big
So deep.
And with forest
I called out unanswered
So each sentence was cleared
In absence of distraction
I lay
I awoke.
I spoke in whispers I thought only you’d know how to hear
A call upon the window ledge that browns a little more each year
Three mountains on the horizon but only one brings you near
How many times can I watch, each time I see what I’ve never seen
Each time, each year the vision is as dear to me again
And sends drawing down my face one happily yet unspoken tear.
Every step you carry with me
A fragrance wafting so free
Your spine tingles the very clouds
Surrounding me, which I see
Which I love and become one
Of every day a deep inhale
That reminds me of pure ecstasy
A true embrace
A truth I remember and carry home
To set my mind upon the ledge
Of your clear visage.
This tap has run dry
Of its fine wine,
Just chips and dip left
On the mantle ledge.
A fire burns elastically,
Transfixing each gaze
Into a myraid of dreams
Slowly edging reality’s edge.
Darkness transcends time
When city streets no longer wind
About fir trees and hemlock,
Mocking life’s cruel new wedge.
Today there is a sign,
A window of an opening
Whistling softly,
Dragging at my conscience.
I acknowledge it.
I sit cross-legged
To experience its frequencies
Reverberate my lifeline.
This lesson is wordless,
Perched upon low hanging ledges
Of spring’s naked birch trees.
I imagine smoke
Wafting its sacred essence.
And my peace and gratitude
Flows mingling with the wind,
Vibrating to wordless words
Whistling through my conscience.
From this ledge I looked out beyond,
I surveyed the stillness.
Waiting,
Expecting,
Un-avoiding brief glimpses
Of society’s marks;
Transport trucks rumbling
In and out of earshot.
From this ledge I held onto a hand,
I held on so tight to remind me
That in spite surmountable distances,
In spite out-of-control conveniences
I wasn’t alone here;
Alone in my thoughts.
This wasn’t my diary,
This was my acceptance refusal.
From this ledge I plotted.
I took every hemlock and spruce
Inside my heart and nurtured their spirit
To grow with me as I carved my initials
Into their supple skin, raw so real;
Nature entwined my soul and became me
And I became it.
And I lept from this ledge with eyes wide open.
