And Still, I Reach

I keep thinking I can keep the cracks
from widening—
the way I press two shards together
out of habit,
long after the glue has dried.

A fault I know well—
this stubbornness of heart,
tenderness pooling in any open seam
until it crowds out
my own pulse.

I know I can’t fix them,
but something in me
still lifts the broken thing,
tracing the fray
like a strand of hair already coming undone.

This is my flaw—
the old ache rising
whenever someone begins to split.

I know I cannot save them,
yet the wanting returns—
learned too early,
held too long.

And still,
I reach.

I walked right into it 

Shimmers of strummed purr-rolls drift to Woman, waterfalling her awake.

Imagine this nourished, full air—and the surprised 

Lord, help me accept the things I cannot change.
The things only You can rearrange.
Help me be at peace with letting my chips fall where they may.
Let me get out of Your way.
Keep the inner tantrums at bay.
I should just trust and not try to persuade.

Though I’ve been on this journey too long.
I’m ready to parade…rest.
I’m pretty sure I’ve passed the test.
Now, Lord, can I please get blessed?
I need my feet caressed
from standing in the need,
and in the garden planting seeds.
I even decided to concede
and gave up positions so others can be on track to succeed.

Indeed, I’m being contradictory.
Pushing for immediate change,
though I know the history.
Thinking my contributions are by my own credibility.
He may not come when you want Him,
but He’ll be there right on time.
I just hope this is the last time
I have to deal with feeling
like I’ve wasted time.

By this time in my life,

I had hoped we would be discussing

what flowers will grow best 

on the red plains of our next-door neighbor.

Cities would float in the upper atmosphere,

collections of platforms from which

a thousand vehicles could take us anywhere

between the stars.

Now I worry 

we instead seek ships

to take us nowhere 

as quickly as inhumanly possible.

We squabble these days 

over blaming others for algae,

when we once dreamed of shooting that scum 

across space to make room

for rootbound residents of earth.

We slash each other 

instead of hacking the obstacles

that keep our futures from growing.

No black and blue buds

poke through early spring dust storms

that deposit dirt so rich 

it might as well be lethal. 

No space stations await us

over the next horizon.

When given the choice—

and even when not awarded so—

I remember the blooms 

I hope to see images of

across the fields of Mars

when I think of how low

our species has sunk. 

Mazzy reminds me-

to soften time,
to let your hands
persuade my restless bones
into stillness.

Fade into me.
Do not become another ghost
I must learn to carry.
Stay long enough
to know each quiet room
within me.

Let her siren hymn
draw you nearer,
until my name
feels less discovered
than remembered.

These wayfaring eyes,
this pilgrim heart—
so long acquainted
with the art of leaving—
ask for only this:

Fade into me,

until even the tide
cannot remember
where you end
and I begin.

waiting for you
to finish 
whatever you’re doing
to have you
to myself
even if it’s only 
a few seconds
a breath 
before the plunge
into all that mess

I love to feel the ease
Of being in my own bed 
Warm and cozy after a long day 
Where I can rest my bones 
Slide my legs between your legs 
Curl my frame in towards yours
Sync my breath and heartbeat 
With yours to create a rhythm 
Close my eyes and drift peacefully 
Into the comfort of home
If I should die before I wake 
My heart, soul and love 
Was all yours
In all the ways 
To have and take. 

Much as I might imagine