A Slow Churn

Without notice

A moment becomes a linger

A slow churn turns while standing perfectly still

Flickering lights catch my ear

Causing wandering eyes to turn

But sauntering gazes move slowly

And connections sometimes are never met

Gone, as if never appeared

The emptiness of blown candles in the air

Silence remains in its wake

Yet I am certain it was there

Today Not a Day of Voices

Soft blades of grass

Pillowed beneath my head

My hand shields the sun from my eyes

Rays soak through the cracks between my fingers

Making me squint just a bit

No breeze to be found

The thick heat, frozen in the air

Unable to move, it waits and stares

It has all the time in the world

To sit and keep me company

It’s quiet, almost too quiet

Even if I were miles away

The sound of stillness would be the same

At least it would be on this day, today

I remain silent

Even if I wanted to speak

My lips would move

But no sound would emerge

Because today is not a day of voices, not today

There will be plenty of tomorrows to be heard

Instead I float, suspended in time

Living in just this moment while it lasts

 
*Originally posted August 15, 2015

Puddles of Lost Voices

Falling rain

Each drop free falling faster than the next

The sound of a million needles splashing on my skin

Tiny droplets reverb in the background

A lonely melody emerges

Puddles of lost voices begin to sing

Their faint voices, distant

Burrow deep inside and stay with me

And I’m certain

There will never be a storm like this again

But I will always hear this song

Whenever it rains

Originally posted August 22, 2015

Insomnia Again

Quiet silence

Thick enough to muffle my thoughts

But not enough to mute voices in my head

.

Cracks on ceilings stare down from above

Watching me watching them

Making me wonder what else is cracking inside

.

Dawn rests miles away

Waiting for my slow walk to fall at its feet

Step by step I keep walking into eternity

Hanging On

Fingertips on wooden walls

Hanging on

Gravity creeps in

Pushing weight down to the tips of my toes

And I find myself

Sweating to the heat of the moon

And looking forward to the cool breeze of the sun

Mixed up thoughts lounge in waiting rooms

As waiting and wanting become mistaken for one another

Counting to ten

Lists roll through the currents of my mind

One for two

Two for ten

Breathing life into my fingertips

Helping me to hang on

Window Panes

Memories taped to window panes

Sunlight streams and escapes around the edges

Shadows cast on dusty wooden floors

The silence of sunlight’s arc follows me

And I’m waiting for something to emerge

I’m just not sure what it is