Cracked Open
The pain of loss
cracks the heart
open
spilling seed,
soft flesh
torn apart
in aching
torment,
love's
consuming
appetite.
Stranger to the Beloved
Entering the sheer
and delicate beauty
of her hypnotic
sensuality
creases of judgment
fall from my face
to the pile
of discarded
clothing
at the foot
of her bed,
unnecessary
in the dance of light
behind her eyes
and the healing darkness
within her embrace
of this long
awaited
stranger
to the beloved.
I Stand in Beauty
New light enters
the east window
as a welcome breeze
flutters the white lace curtain;
fat green leaves
of the cyclamen
catch the sun,
purple veins aglow
in a transparent
underbelly.
Where your legs part
is a nest of gold;
books of poetry
surround you
as you catch
the inspiration
to name your self.
I sit in wonder,
my arms and legs powerful.
I have built many buildings,
but here in the holy place
I lay down my tools
and listen for the music
on the early morning wind.
I look into your body
and see our future;
the sheets are rumpled, chaotic,
our bed damp with July.
The rock rolls back
between tomb and garden.
We live here.
I stand in beauty.
I am not afraid.
Until We Met
Along the county road to Masonville
one farmer knew the tides
and perfect timing for each season,
hay felled and baled as if in consort
with the fierce front range storms,
fields disked, plowed brown and re-seeded
as the last rays of autumn's warmth
departed before the snows of winter;
the order and beauty of his rhythm
became my image of happiness
though rarely was that harvest my own,
more an inner landscape of faith.
Despite my failings I kept the hope
of that finely furrowed homestead
beside the swift creek and jagged mountains
as altar to my longing,
prayed for but hardly recognized
until we met.
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