Poetry

Deal?

I never want you       to be anything less

than yourself around me       let yourself out fully, don’t       hold back

no matter what       tell me anything

bounce ideas off me like I’m a squash court

same with emotions: let them       out

laugh, cry, be low, be high

show me the darkness       show me the light

anything that’s on your mind, anything at all

I will always be a net to hold the rawest parts of you

Poetry

Turning the handle

You say I swept out the cobwebs from your mind,

chased away the critters nesting

in the corners, darkening them

until the room became a prison, insular

and draining.

But you were the one who kept the door open

when it threatened to close

just so I could take shelter from the storm

chasing me.

Poetry

Rushing Rivers

Dawn. We kiss, say our

good mornings.

You, the boy who is my best friend,

listen carefully to the account of my dreams.

Sometimes,

night terrors.

You know where parts come from, just as I do.

You know me,

inside and out, like

the motions you use cutting and shuffling cards,

except without the years of practice

yet at the same time

a lifetime of listening and observing.

We get ready for work,

the day ahead planned and uncertain.

We are a tag team, a cassette tape and pencil.

Together, nothing can keep us down.

Poetry

Arms

Arms that wrap, tight, safe

fingers holding firm on shoulders.

Massaging tired body, mind

release from the daily hounding.

Even if it’s just for a moment, less than a minute,

a second snatched in a silent room,

a quiet corner free from the hungry

crowd of nattering, gossiping, whispering

eyes that see much

yet nothing at all.

A hug

they think.

A promise

we say.

Poetry

Bleed

In order to know someone,

bleeding yourself out into a cup

and letting them drink it down

is sometimes the only way.

It lets them taste the salt in your wounds

and the nectar in your view

of the intricacies of life,

spinning and turning

through every step you’ve taken

to reach this point.

Let them see your shackles, your restraints,

and trust them

when even if they say they don’t have the power to break them,

they can still aid you

as you rid them yourself.

It may take decades, aeons,

a million fractals of your stitched and glued and re-stitched heart,

but they’ll be there through all of it.

Just give them opportunity to take that first sip.

Poetry

Rain

We can walk together along the path

of browns and golds, an orange here and there,

we can chat about how things are –

home, jobs, family, hobbies –

we can look up at the darkening sky,

glee in our eyes,

and stick out our tongues

ready to catch those first drops

weeping down from the clouds.

 

Or we could laugh at the time you fell

in that shallow puddle,

which actually turned out to be quite deep.