First Day

Something quiet builds this evening

as the hours tick away time.

There is nervous anticipation

that a moment has come and gone.

This is my favorite holiday

I am entranced by the possibility.

There is something magical in the idea

of the old giving way to the new.

As the hours pass, excitement rises

although I know it is all just a farce.

That at midnight we’ll throw glitter into the air

and kiss away the past.

Dressing up and hitting the town

was always part of the charade.

Formally addressing the turning page

and toasting its quiet end.

The silence of the new year’s morning

has memories steeped in my mind.

Walking the streets before the world comes to life

as if I am the first to tread here.

With endless possibilities

the beginning will come again.

The end just a memory, the ties all undone

a chance to come away clean.

The first light of morning, the first breath of day

the first time this year to begin.

A new life, a new hope, a new state of mind

 a new you because you can.

* For dVersepoets.com   Poetics-Endings & Beginnings *

Ever?

The question now is simple

will you reach for me again?

Will that long lost look in your eyes

ever set its sights on me?

Will I quicken your heart as it beats in your chest

and steal the breath from your lungs?

Will I cause an ache that can only be healed

by taking me into your arms?

Will you want me in that way again

without obligation and guilt?

Will you tear down that wall now between us

with a thirst that can’t be quenched?

Will that fire ignite in your soul again

will it burn all this pain away?

Will you ever meet me alone some day

on that rooftop from so long ago?

Will we dive into those waters where we once swam

naked and fully exposed?

Will we make love with reckless abandon

and covet that time alone?

Will that heart on the chain around your neck

get caught in our mouths as we kiss.

Will we be spent with exhaustion, yet ravenous

and hungrily asking for more?

A Conversation

Today I need the quiet, soothing sound of numb

last night, truth be told, truth was told.

We got to the raw, we got to the bleeding

we got to the heart of this thing.

We laid it bare, we listened, and we cried

and then we laid it bare, listened and cried again.

Words were spoken with the delicacy of art

brushstrokes etched deep into the grain.

Thoughts and feelings buried deep were dug up from their graves

resurrected and held up to the light.

Wounds uncovered, scars revered

we paid homage to the path that brought us here.

Today we are both within ourselves

 yet together in this space.

Carefully navigating the rooms

and the blue print of our life.

We don’t have the answers readily

available on our tongues.

We don’t have the words

that will tidy up the mess.

We don’t have a steady foothold

 upon this slippery floor.

We don’t have anything else

except the truth.

We are taking this moment

we are taking this day.

And perhaps tomorrow

we will do the same thing again.

We are digging in

we are moving on faith.

We are looking for something

to believe in again.

What Could Have Been...

Today could have been a day filled with anger and pain

it could have been a day of endings and moving away.

There could have been harsh words thrown across rooms

there could have been lines in the sand.

With all of the pain we have been through

with all that’s been said and been done.

There could have been nothing left of us here

instead there is still me and you.

We are taking heed of each other

we are trying to fix broken things.

We are taking the high road in action and deed

we are practicing love as a skill.

We haven’t fallen victim to the harsh words,

to the disgrace, and the hate.

We may actually have closed the distance between us

and have found our way back to that place.

The place that transcends the selfish,

the place that transcends fear.

The place where we open up all that we are

and come closer than ever before.

*For dVerse Poets Pub   Meeting the Bar – Contrast *

Broken...now?

Standing bleeding and broken

heart ripped from my chest.

Lying in pieces on the floor at your feet

gasping to take my next breath.

We are at the precipice

we are standing so close to the edge.

I am ready to jump and fall

and land crashing on the ground.

I can’t believe this pain

this aching, raw, this numb.

I can’t believe how lost I feel

and how absolutely alone.

I’ve been standing tall and braving this fight

holding my breath as I go.

Flying on faith, on a wing and a prayer

for the simple fact that I believed.

I have gone to the edges of sanity

questioning the state of my own.

I have challenged my own integrity

to make the voices stop screaming at me.

Now the words have been spoken

and things said can’t be undone.

Now something must change, must be done

I don’t know what that is.

I don’t understand this need in you

when you tell me that I am the one.

I don’t understand how you can hold me so tight

and still chase shadows in the dark.

This is a time for healing

for rebuilding what has been lost.

For tending to wounds and stitching up tears,

for effort and visible scars.

I am moving forward without direction

simply following my feet where they lead.

Looking for clues in the scenery

for evidence that I’ll be ok.

This is a time of faith

for unconditional belief.

A time for us to stand face to face

naked, in the light.

The Wish of A Red Balloon

All of the other girls had red balloons

yet I still carry this thing.

This thing that separates me from them,

makes me different from all the rest.

Mine is bigger and better and faster

and can fly me around the world.

Yet I still just want what they all have

and to be like everyone else.

They have color, those bright red balloons,

matching their hats and shoes.

Mine has no flair, no zip, no pizazz,

a potato on a string.

I stand out alone, my back to their faces

their childish fun loving grins.

In my simple brown dress, and sad lonely eyes,

I am trying to fit in.

Maybe one day I’ll see it,

the value this thing holds for me.

I will climb in and set my course

for adventures not of this world.

But today I am here and apart from the crowd,

lonely and on the fringe.

Today my only wish

is to have a red balloon.

*For dVersepoets.com   Poetics: Out the Sketchbook *

Art by Tera Zajack

The Cut.

Swirling and spinning

violent circles chasing wildly through my mind.

It’s a full body assault,

nervous agitation banging itself into the walls.

It is discomfort, distaste

the dissonant sound of an ache.

It is discord,  division,

the dichotomy of pain.

I can’t focus, can’t hear

cannot see or feel.

I can’t think, can’t reason,

cannot settle myself.

There is a desperation in me

in this need for something now.

I need some comfort, need release

 need to set this caged thing free.

One cut, one tear,

the fascination distracts.

One rip, one shred, one drag across skin

one door to let it out.

I am trapped, like a wild thing,

within the walls of myself.

I am writhing , and twisting

with this frenzied need.

There is nothing to free me

from the skin in which I’m bound.

There is nothing sharp enough

to set this need free.

My Own~

There are things happening daily

that I don’t understand.

There are words forming on the edge on my tongue

that never need to be said.

There are hurdles and walls and mountains to climb

that sometimes just seem too high.

There are voices that whisper to me

whose words I just can’t hear.

I am digging deeper into myself

than I have ever had to go.

Traversing  a road that has never been walked

on ground where no one has stood.

This journey is mine to travel alone

without maps or a compass in hand.

Walking down paths in search of something

that is recognizable to me.

I am flying on faith and instinct alone

on what my heart believes.

I am trusting that I will find the way

to where I need to be.

There are wrong turns and dead ends, and bumps in the road

there are trips and falls to my knees.

There is time to rest and heal those wounds

there is nothing urgently prodding me.

There is time to feel the heat and the cold,

the wind and the rain on my face.

There are moments for stopping and taking this in

before moving forward again.

I am taking my time and counting my steps,

leading me down these roads.

I am letting go of the need to know

exactly where I am going.

Gone...and...forgotten...

Will you feel me,

when you no longer touch my skin?

Will you see me when you

no longer look in my eyes?

Will you hear me,

as I softly cry myself to sleep?

Will you miss me,

when I silently disappear?

Will you remember my smile,

as it once lit up this room?

Will you recall my voice,

when it no longer speaks your name?

Will there be something in the back of your mind,

that pulls you back to this place?

Will you wonder where

I have gone, when I am gone?

Will you regret,

 that you took me for granted?

Will you forget,

that I feel everything you say?

Will my memory touch

any part of the world where you now live?

Will my role

in all of this be done?

Will there be pieces of me that linger with you?

like the taste that stays on your tongue?

Or will you simply rise from the table,

an empty plate left behind?

*about the way we move through the lives of others*

For dVersepoets.com    OpenLinkNight ~ Week 22

The Essence of Grace

She has laid herself out on the table before me

and I silently take her in.

Stripped bare of any mask or cloak

she shows me into her soul.

There are things in there that are crying

there are things in there that scream.

Yet she carefully tends them and feeds their need

 with a gentle, loving hand.

She is fighting battles with demons

with voices that are louder than hers.

Yet she quietly sings herself lullabies

with words of comfort and care.

The voices are bitter and angry

with hateful things to say.

They are trying to take her with them

as misery loves company.

She is brave and strong in the face of this

and I sit and watch her with awe.

Standing beautiful and tall with head held high

her light shining out through it all.

I can only think as I watch her

that this is the essence of grace.

She stands naked and defenseless

yet all I see is strength.

*dVerse Meeting the Bar: Writing Emotion*