Divine Connections

She is with me.  

Pouring whispers into my ears like the sweetest honey, 

‘I am there in the reflections of puddled shores,’ she says, 

‘I am there in the shadows of clouds on mountains,  

I am there in the waves of sea foam and schools of hidden fish. 

Remember what you see.  

Bathe in its truth.  

And when you die, 

My noblest child - 

Let the clay wrap you in its devouring pigment. 

For I will be there too.’ 

​

In his Absence.  

I am sitting in the dark. 

Trying to remember all that I have forgotten.  

​

I know you in pictures. 

I know you in stories. 

Though I have never known you in memory.  

​

How strange is it to love someone you do not remember? 

​

My God loves me like a Mother.  

Like a mother should.  

​

She loves me like the sparkling sun loves the shadowy moon,

like the hollowing wind loves the softest leaves  

My god is everything that I've been robbed of 

She is my youth bellowing in my shaky breath 

She is my heart slowing with the waves at sea 

Moments in time that feel like a perpetually shattering glass

A cracking growing louder and louder 

only to burst into a roar of thundering shrieks 

​

I can feel her imagery in my body as I grow  

My feet melt into the surfaces I stand on 

My hands coil into the objects I use 

My mind races with the speed of a salient sound  

And grows rapidly upward like vines 

The chatter fogging my consciousness but lifting me high like smoke

​

This is my God.  

​

Mother of the Sea.  

Body of velvet and holy voice of silk,  

Consciousness is an incurable god  

If aging has taught me anything, 

It is that I know nothing at all

​

We stand beside each other.  

Through our first loves out of childhood 

and the inevitable disappointment when they prove to be human 

Through circumstances pulling apart everyone who seemed eternally glued 

We all stand beside each other through this though we do not speak about it 

We pretend it doesn’t sting because it’s predictable  

Erasure of a collective suffering we carry together through madness and silence 

But sometimes,  

when you first meet someone  

you can see them still searching  

for the fleeting magic of youth in the eyes of those wandering blankly around them.  

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Comfortable Decay.  

I used to keep my grandmothers old perfume bottles when she was finished with them

My older sister would too  

We’d argue over who got which ones  

Hollow treasures slighted with blemishes and missing pieces  

Bubbled glass cascading into a sacred spring that can fit in your palm

The smell of the leIover perfume endlessly overpowering the soI flower petals 

mixed with water from the bathroom sink  

It was a comfortable decay, 

and I will always miss it.