Month: February 2018

Mates, Soul… (An Audio Poem)

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amysheraldart
Courtesy of Amy Sherald


Mates, Soul… (An Audio Poem)

I could have been built
to last–a specimen of
honesty wispy in
airy ways,
yet, I floated back to
a place where my soul
melted into its flame.

It is said that a true
“soulmate is like a mirror,
reflecting back to you the
aspects within yourself.”
so why is it that
when I look at me,
I can no longer see
who I am,
who I was,

I can only see
you.

And in that moment of Me
seeing only You,
I know that the heart
has nothing to do
with reflection.
The soul designed
this birth centuries before
my knowing.

The soul delivered
without my consent.

I can only see 
you.

Fated in bloom,
wrapped into the soul of
another
that is mine
too.

I have been doing a bit of reading on soulmates and that’s what sparked this. Funny how learning about something that has been around for ages can get the brain working on an entirely different level–wanting, yearning to know more.

Blind Reality (An Audio Poem)

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lostloveart
Courtesy of Adrian Calin/Lost Love

Blind Reality (An Audio Poem)

as the dust gathers
in your eyes, you
flick it with the tip
of your finger,
pressing its grittiness onto
the bridge of your nose.

blinded by daybreak
a cause for concern
in the dank, deserted, and
dreaded domain of a
commoner’s heart, you
swim effortlessly,
milking the need.

once lost, now found–
a deluge of pain seeps in
reminding us that reality
is a dream and waits
patiently for its turn to
make an appearance.

and like magic
we abracadabra the honey-scented
calmness of a blazing breeze

drifting
drifting
drifting

like lost lovers do.

The Glory of the Forgotten

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Courtesy of Pinterest

She is sitting in a pale, dust-ridden chair, rocking herself to obtain a deeper sense of calm. Her Primary Care Physician believes she is showing signs of Bipolar Disorder. She wants to refer her to a therapist, someone she trusts. The air in the room is thick with guilt. A faulty door swings open and a nurse in tattered scrubs alerts the doctor to her next patient who has been waiting for fifteen minutes. 

“Danielle, I have to go. I have another patient waiting. I will call Dr. Dominguez myself and schedule a consultation for you. Are Fridays still best?”

But, Danielle is drowning.  The rocking chair is now a carousel and she cannot halt the spinning. There is no sound. The muffled words of Dr. Norman attack her ears but leave no depth. She is trapped within herself, bracing for glory that does not come. 

“Danielle?! Are Fridays still best for you?”

“Yes.  I’m sorry, Dr. Norman. I didn’t hear you. I was…”

“I know, you were not here. *sighs* We will get you better in due time. I will call Dr. Dominguez this evening. Make a follow up appointment with Clara at  the checkout desk for three months. I want to check your iron and ferritin levels at that time. And… your weight.”

Danielle shifts on the plastic bed in the paper thin gown. She gathers her things one by one and returns her outfit to her body. Facing the world is never easy. At least today, someone listened. 

Someone finally listened.