The Space In Between

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(for Anton Kabonic)

I am learning to love

the spaces in between

waiting

wanting

letting go

quieting assumptions

and fears

the space between the wick

and the flame

I am learning to embrace

the silence

watching droplets of rain

tick off my days

on a rosary of

laters

getting to know who I am

questions I want to ask

of you

touching your wild

hoping you’ll trust me

can there be an “us”

I am learning to trust myself

allowing my wild

to howl

calling to the moon

for my lover

no longer apologizing

for my words

my crys

my passion

depending on myself

to run alone if you won’t

run with me

knowing I am strong enough

to love you unconditionally

even from a distance

and still love myself

as well

LAS copyright 2017  all rights reserved

photo courtesy of Pixabay
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/later/

Discard

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You asked me to wait

for you

but I don’t think I can

the silence

no calls

but I know you are home

and I am

unnecessary to you

but when you need me

necessary to me

but you’re not there

not at all

familiar souls

connecting for a moment

I made the mistake

fell in love

became vulnerable

and now broken

Know it wasn’t me

Know it is with you

at least I learned the lesson

that I can still feel

still love

and my heart

with time

will heal

while it’s your turn

and you can wait

LAS copyright 2017  All Rights Reserved

Photo courtesy of Pixabay

 

I Don’t Want to Write Anymore

So beautifully touching. For all of us that have the empathic gift, I thought this summed up how many of us feel. Enjoy Sumiyana’s poetry!

Sumyanna Writes

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I don’t want to write

anymore

I don’t want the words

rushing through my veins,

the surge with which

leaves me unsettled

raw and open…

It is much

too much to ask of me –

to bleed the twisting sentences

to feel the verbs

tracing down my spine

and the world becomes

unburdened of her sin

yet I am left to feel

each pang of remembrance.

A child cries

and I feel her tears

added to my sorrows.

I watch a hungry man

stooped over an open trashcan

and I cannot escape

his need.

I hear the sirens

of yet another disaster

and I cannot pull away.

I feel the loss that others

cannot bear to breathe.

My eyes

were never meant

to look away.

My heart

was never meant

to go to sleep

and I feel

and I feel

and I feel as if it is too much

and…

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Stop the Wild Horse Round Ups in Wyoming!!!

Originally posted on Straight from the Horse’s Heart: “This is Your Chance to be a Voice for the Horses…” Destruction of Wyoming’s Adobe Town herd by the BLM ~ photo by Carol Walker of Wild Horse Freedom Federation The Bureau of Land Management offices in Rock Springs and Rawlins are launching a 30-day public…

via BLM Seeks Public Comment on Plan to Rip More than 1,000 Wild Horses Out Of Wyoming — hocuspocus13

Transformed

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The connection

charge sparkled

between fingers

in their hair

layered on skin

the corona expanding

and he held his breath

eyes meeting

their first dance

the darkness

parting

for the first time in years

she pressed closer

to hear the song of his heart

moving to the beat

of lifetimes

found again in each others arms

LAS  copyright 2017  All Rights Reserved

Photo courtesy of Pixabay

My Wild Horses

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People tell me

you need variety

don’t put your

eggs in one basket

but

they don’t see the wild in me

they don’t see

the hunger for open spaces

desires as crazy

as a whirlwind in July

the turmoil

you stir in my blood

until my horses run

uncontrolled

past caring

of the ruin

stampede in my soul

They don’t understand

the passion

you created with careless words

honeyed with a dark liquor

bleeding through the miles

of invisible line

and I choose to believe

that you spilled them

with the same hope

I had of hearing them

a dark demolition

throwing that gate open

to let me dance

following by your side into the

moonlight

and running with the stars

LAS copyright 2017 All Rights Reserved

Picture courtesy of Pixabay

 

 

The Chase

Chase me to the moon and back

weaving hide and seek patterns through beams of silver

The comets collide

rocking me back on heels

showering my heart with a million tiny fragments

in a benediction of emotions

as broad as the spectrum of light

instantaneous

naked in honesty

and replete with who we are

continuing a cycle

through this cosmos we created

LAS copyright 2017  All Rights Reserved

 

 

 

Tumbleweeds

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If I show my heart right now, will he run?  If I tell him that I may have fallen for him from the first time I saw him through pictures and words and the unspoken kindnesses I see in his smile… would it frighten him? What if I tell him that I understand the horrors he has seen, the joys in small moments, that I am excited, yet scared and shy as a doe coming out of the brush?

My mornings have been richer this week because of him.  I don’t let a lot of people truly close to me.  Old fears.  People can be so cruel.  Like the snow melting, droplets forming trickles, pouring away from my frozen heart for a Spring to push up grasses and flowers and life after so long of being barren white.  I am so vulnerable and yet I yearn.

But when you let someone in, they know your soft spots…how deep your river flows…where the muddy spots are that push into brambles and thickets of dark brush. They know the hidden caves of treasure and the monsters you hide.  But I want to let him in.

A call.  A glance.   To share a word face to face and listen to the luxury of a human voice spinning a tale of their world…their truths, and deep fears, and shining glories.  The touch of another’s hand.

I have stood on this hillside, tying poems to tumbleweeds and setting them free to the wind.   Taking the chance that maybe they will be read before the sun and rain fade them and the winds shred them away.  Hoping that these fragile notes will crumble in the wrong hands.  Praying that the right heart, his heart, will hear and treasure them away in his mind and in secret. Smiling that I have spoken without demonstration and in the silence of the open skies just to reach him.

A chance of one in a million worth taking.  And yet I tie one more note to this ragged, old tumbleweed, raise it high in the wind and let it go.

LAS 2017 copyright All Rights Reserved

Red Dust Road

Dust down the old road

my heart broke

from the dreams going up

in moving on smoke

and I didn’t want to

the overwhelming crash

of the never agains and I’m sorry’s

Looking out for me

looking out

for someone special

that’s broken too

mend each other’s wounds

and laugh at the scars

somebody

that appreciates the oldies

and that slight crinkle around my eyes

taking me driving

down those old roads

kicking up this red dust

for new reasons

new dreams

LAS copyright 2017 All Rights Reserved

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/overwhelming/