Author: A Poet's Pen

Dead Space

There is a room in my mind that has no windows or doors.

It has no color–walls stripped bare and blank and empty–

like a force of nature decided to strip a home of its humanity.

Life has left the hallways and spaces of this place.

There is no frame or shape that can explain the barren structure left behind.

It has no name.

It is the definition of  “nothing.”

Noise bounces off the foundation like a soundproof room, and leaves no trace of voice.

It is the little hell that keeps people from seeing God or faith in living things.

It is a piece of rotting wood, not good for anything.

This place in my mind–this deadened wood that has no purpose–

permeates my definition of life.

It reminds me of the pressing feeling that nothing lasts and everything fades to the past and pushes people back

until they can’t see color anymore.

It’s a black and white world.

 

Heavy Listening

Words are lost in translation and

my mind is a blur of yes and no and run,

but I wait for someone to step out of this blur

and say something that sounds like a warm greeting–

a hello from quiet mornings and coffee–

but my thoughts are too light for the harsh reality that claims my fate,

and I can’t run away

from a present perfect destruction that waits in the corners of every room–

every hidden space that makes a piece of the puzzle that was never meant to be there.

It was never meant to fit where

I wanted to place it.

I wasn’t meant for building concrete things.

I was meant for discreet passage ways

In tunnels that have no space for answers.

 

You Found Me

My eyes hold the dark

Like an open tomb

My mouth cries out

For someone to look at me—

I hear the boards creak.

I feel the walls crack

As dust fills my nose

And the floors shake

Like an earthquake.

Light crawls through the spaces

And my body relaxes.

I am not alone in this darkness.

I see you standing beside the rubble

Looking at me,

Waiting with an open hand,

And I begin again.

I push my body through the pieces of concrete,

And reach.

Your eyes found me.

Your hands took mine,

And we left this place.

This place of dry bones and fallen things.

Rainy Days

It’s raining and my mind

Is a blur of blue and green

And brown and black

Sitting next to you, I watch the windows reflect

The rain painting the panes,

And take your hands to dance.

I want to dance in the puddles

Until the earth stains our clothes

And covers our bodies.

I smell the freshness,

Feel the texture on my skin,

And let the coolness fall.

The rain falls.

I fall,

But you catch me.

I am a part of this world,

And a part of yours,

So let’s dance in the puddles

Together.