An indigo streak on the horizon Becomes green and creased and shrouded, Loom lordlike over your realm.
I think you know more than you let on, Millennia of whispers in your roots, You have weathered storm and quake and war -
Tell me; is there a dragon curled in your belly? Do you rumble at affront? Or do you just embrace the earth, and give lessons in patience, and steady silence, and remembering?
"Stella. You were in my dream the other night. And everyone called you Princess." -Lauren2010
here, i think i am closest to god. the smell of dying masked by lavender, sea salt spray. he is here: the choir of masts in harbour, the sun sending wide lilac shafts to us, the water waltzing, slow, gentle.
here is the gift i was never given; the sense of quiet when the rush is gone. i took my tubes away at last, let him rattle free ocean air into the hollowed-out parts of himself. gave him just our oldest and our best.
i am holding his hand, he is holding mine, and together we wait for god.
"Stella. You were in my dream the other night. And everyone called you Princess." -Lauren2010
The art eluded me in my impatience, the hunger of never sitting still, never watching the light split, (I might have seen the shadows on his face)
Had I folded a brick each day since then, I could build the backward-looking bridge, give scaffold wings to the girl I was, set her free before ever she were caged
we teach ourselves our vocation - in the end, all wishes are selfishly wished and I never deserved mine granted.
"Stella. You were in my dream the other night. And everyone called you Princess." -Lauren2010
To this day, this one of my favorite NaPo threads on YWS. I still think about this thread a lot and I remember two years ago during NaPo eagerly waking up so I could read the new poem you posted each day.
"A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language." - W.H. Auden
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