Saving grace, whole heart back in your arms, you hold all of me as me; I never knew how non-words could feel the best route. Unspoken is our reset, mutual forgiveness, moving on but not leaving anything unaddressed. We understand, silent resolutions, in the simple language of love.
Do you mind if I stay extra near awhile, to just exist in this balance, a respite from the drama of being so much?
Sometimes (more often than not), I exhaust myself with this wild heart and wild soul I house.
I must part ways with you now, dear Darkness; Light is forlorn without its Laura,
my aura is dimming the further I drift in this alluring cradling away from attempts
of putting forth the efforts to swim back up toward Bliss:
I still hope, believe (barely), that it exists.
A parting kiss…
Yes, I know that means I will have to let go, for now, of that dream, but I can keep the parts that were seeded, for weeds they are not; I feel it, in that new spot, how I can nurture it into something beautiful still…
I will.
I return to the isle from a distance, leave a trinket, so it is known I’ll always be near,
I replayed your words, a favorite message, though I’ve memorized the way it was delivered.
You did not seed it in me, but something deep inside, in a place never reached, heard it and recognized the voice, ancient souls reunited, a stirring, an awakening, a rising.
Something must’ve happened, though, in the transfer. You must’ve given too much of yourself to my ever-after.
Our once-upon-a-time now birthed, I give back to you in equal measure. Restored. But now we each have more.
Come, darling, take my hand. Write with me. Let’s never end
this love story. Together.
Our effervescence need not be evanescent. We can live forever
as long as we have tongues to dip and plunge
into the well, we’ll leave our ink upon the world.
And when our bodies become one with the earth, we’ll find each other as light and rebirthe
Oaths unspoken,
wordless vows,
our mutual love
could never be spelled,
no linguistic language
to transcribe these feelings
when souls communicate
in spiritual understandings,
silent exchanges
through touch and glances,
in light and irises,
we commune, begin
our dance.
Something there is in a soul’s composition that personalizes light from the connecting threads;
in the weave of mine, part my art and part divine, seems to be for the grandiose some kind of rare blindness in the mainstream sense, for I only find it in the minute and steeped in mindfulness,
the larger picture always blurred and muted, unacceptably-by-society dismissing sweeping views;
upon deaf eyes, the waterfalls, for my soul only hones in on single drops, the silhouette of an insect’s wings even beyond the forefront flowering.
Too far away are the large and obvious; I slip into the inconspicuous, secret portals and nooks that scan my soul and recognize me in my slow and scenic way home.
Don’t take me to the lookout point; take me to the mountain where I can climb to admire all the wonder along the trail. The view at the top can never be the peak: for me it can only be
in the little things.
You can hike with me if you have the patience, for a mile in nature won’t get you fit, but if you’d like to sit awhile beside me, I wouldn’t mind the company,
but no attention would I be able to give you when the sun sets on a solitary bee upon a pink bloom…
If I offered you my hand, would you walk with me, leisurely toward dreams sunsetting upon the sea?
If I shared what’s in my shell, let you hear the whispers, would you heart-preserve them among your dearest treasures?
If I stopped and turned and looked into your eyes, would I find there what I’ve been searching for all of my life?
If I were brave enough to let that gaze linger, would you be brave enough to close the distance even further?
If you kissed me, would you be able to surrender, to allow me to turn the key and make you mine forever,
not by locking, but by releasing, freeing the love you’ve been deep-freezing,
to feel directly the flutter of mine, the wings I have grounded indefinitely from flying?
And if they combined, these lights in our souls, would you regret not having the time for closure with your shadows?
If our union ends up to be the origin of love, would this moment be perfect enough for the first page of our album?
Would you fall each day deeper in love with me; would our love grow until it lifts us into eternity?
I suppose if you don’t know all of this now, I’d still like to walk with you awhile, and if you already know all of this now, you should know these feelings in me I could never disavow.
As you reach for my hand even though none of this I have said aloud, I feel the universe shift and know I have been finally found.
Beneath the Prunus avium Plena, I walk with thee, our souls the same double bloom, pure white, light-laced, bound tenderly.
Graceful and gracious is this love; we bow humbly.
The birds sing. Eternal spring. Hearts hatched; finally, the Birthing.
My life began when you reached for my hand, and we strolled into our dreams leisurely, intentionally losing ourselves together among the double white cherry trees.
Laura Denise 