The Spell

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No words

uttered

the smoke rises

she turns looking

at the only face

that has stayed with her

shining silver

constant

changeless over ages

she tells the moon her dreams

her wishes

shadows wait

frozen

watching

waiting to carry her love

on the wind

letters consumed

flames and wisps

smoke

and the ashes dance

lifting lightly

floating over the miles

settling light on a hand

lying in the darkness

lost in the warmth

of her dreams

swirling about him

enchanting

stirring

washing his pain away

waking to the dark

thinking

oh

thinking she was there

but the room holds

his breath alone

And she waits

as the waters mirror

that silvered face

framed by the mountains

knowing her secret

knowing her pain

shrouding her desires

as the gilt shadows

dissolve in darkness

to place a kiss

on a furrowed brow

resting restless

scented with cedar and pine

and the stirring incense

of a woman

burning bright on the shores

of a lake

miles away

stirring his heart to her

warming flames

and the moon touches the mountain

in a caress

both knowing

the moment is fleeting

but will

play over and over

in the eons of time

LAS copyright 2017 All Rights Reserved

Photo courtesy of Pixabay

 

DO YOU?

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Dark. Muggy and no clouds in sight. Languid, but tranquil in the dusky light as I lay across the sofa.

Thoughts of the wind and the rain and the water. Always the rain and the green grey sky of a September afternoon from years ago. Wind howling and the lightning scattering like cat scratches across the dark and troubled sky. You remember…

remember it like it was yesterday…moments ago and the thoughts pour down just like the rain did that dry day…we hadn’t had rain for months and were praying for it….

Ocean waves, the muted green silk frothed with water lace rippling on the rocks at the back of the Sutro cave rippling as my skin in the cold of the fog splintering my nerves on tiny skewers. The shell, pink and white and oh, so fragile, lay in your hand as you thought in the dry, white heat of the desert….you couldn’t say a word…not to anyone…but I knew….

knew like the lines that cross my palm or the hunger at the end of the day…hunger coming in waves…the heat of the day rising in mirage from the asphalt…making you think…

wonder…..

why the spirit dances in the dead of night when no one but the stars see…whirling under the branches to the scent of roses and leaves crisping in the summer heat…you are a voyeur, aren’t you …I’ve said that before , but it’s true…like it or not…..yards of cloth sway in breezes and body movements that leave you drunk with desire and longing to touch…you won’t…won’t allow yourself to do that…and she knows…can feel your breath on her neck down her arms…the breath that is the wind carrying her in the dance…your heartbeat marking the tune as her feet glide and she twirls leaf-like in your heart…is alone and will be so through time…so close you can feel her, smell her scent but never touch her…make her yours…she pulls off the veil to reveal your own face looking back at you and you flinch and then realize she is a mirror and you are the mask…forever hiding from yourself and from her….and you believe in your safety and you believe you are untouched by your desire…..alone in a confessional the little panel slides back to reveal…what?

…staring at the screen only shadows beyond and you still won’t reveal it…won’t tell you the truth until finally the desperation drives you dizzily down the wire and YOU tell her what you have longed for…what you wish and what you fear…and there is silence greeting you…is she listening…eavesdropping to what is said between the lines…and she softly tells you to light a candle for her soul and say 3 Hail Marys..because surely you are driving her to a hell of your…her own creation clawing at the bedsheets and howling into the dark…unheard

what is this thing that makes you think you are so civilized?

LAS   copyright 2016  all rights reserved