poem: Lines in the Sand

Every sun-swept morning leads me gently to this world

     into the reality of each pain, each joy, each desirous thing;

        dancing in the tides of memory, the waves of forgetfulness,

the dawn inspired fairy bell tinkling waterfall of thrush song.

  And at once is decision making time-

        for to love is a choice freely made, daily.

 

Measuring how much of ourselves we are willing to give away,

    and how much we need to keep. Asking

        -Who, and how much, and in what manner,

  shall I love today?

How much to persons, how much to life?

     Or to the rain that sustains me, or the trees who own the land.

How much wisdom, how much folly, how much bravery

  how much truth, ignorance,

       how much living will I put into this day?

 

What is the value of loneliness, and what is the price of this fight:

  This divine insanity of loving you, as well-

my world contained in the span of a hummingbird’s wingbeat;

    the universe of my comprehension of you

         carefully meted out in ounces of sunlight

drops of endless dew on countless blades of grass.

      In limitless fields of vision, the clouds will be scorekeepers

             as I determine how much of me you shall own today.

 

I draw lines in sand like children do,

     saying, “this, here you cannot pass, what remains, is mine”

 But  then your footsteps lead me to further dunes, distant shores,

   and I forget even the concept of lines;

       with borders this fluid, lines are never more

than arbitrary in only the strictest sense.

 

I imagine my world free of you, handing this gift back.

   Perhaps, I say,  I am not worthy,

or perhaps the stars just wanted their laugh

        a joke whose proportions carved a canyon through my mesa

changing landscapes with a single broad stroke of genius;

       sister-in-law of despair, so I am told

and all I ever wanted is outlined in the space of you

          this empty arching mind blowing hunger of you

 and the rational part of me wants to curl up and die.

              But this is standing my ground, this is claiming my turf.

 

This is saying today, here and now,

   “I am Alive today, and this too, is part of Life.

 I can feel the wind today.

       The song I sing is my own.

      This choice is mine, and I freely accept the pain, for it rends me;

 even as it heals the wounds with sutures made from my own guts.

  This thing is mine, and I would not trade what is mine for anything

            anyone else would tell me I should want, should limit, should feel.”

 

        And I take a deep breath, and decide…

To just simply love:

   All of it.

The irony that is life,

     the despair and ecstasy that is reality.

  The deliciousness that is being a child of wonder,

          the joy of knowing how much I may never know.

 All of them before me, all of them behind me,

     all of them surrounding me right now,

 for upon their shoulders is a standing place.

     And when my breath catches in the morning sun,

           I decide anew to weave you again into the fabric of my days;

     A pattern whose design I cannot see, woven with other loves.

This maddening, frustratingly complex

        simplicity of you.

Reviews

[Larry Dyson]

absolutely lovingly a part of your soul ...shared..eloquently describing the culmenation of the sum total of our abilities and the choices we make minute by minute...i really loved this phrase"The dawn inspired fairy bell tinkling waterfall of thrush song"and the release and retaking of the relationships.."I decide anew to weave you again into the fabric of my days;

A pattern whose design I cannot see, woven with other loves.

This maddening, frustratingly complex

simplicity of you. "

bravo ..now to read the spanish...whew..

[Poetic Beauty]

This is a deep tale of how much we allow people to know see feel and hear from us. Erasing those boundaries is hard and not easy nor is love and letting people in.

There are so many lines in this piece that are deep and profound

[Antonio Valentino]

i think this is my favorite of your's so far.. i especially liked verses, 3, 4, and 5..

this was breath and pulse put to word.. a cascade of being coming of age of its own understanding...

[Marie Anzalone]

This was a birthday present to the man who stopped me dead in my tracks two years ago, asked me to marry him a year ago yesterday, and changed his mind a year ago, this coming Monday, 3 days after the proposal. I saw him yesterday, and things are still this complicated, this fluid, this sittign on the edge fo heartbreak. I guess I am kind of used to the fact they are always going to be complex emotionally. With him, I had to learn to break things down into their absolute simplicity; I could either have let the push-pull situation drive me mad and make me resent him, or I could have let him be who he needed to be, and love the essential part of him that is in my heart. I chose the latter, but it was one of the hardest things I have ever done. This one broke me. I am still picking the pieces back up, a year later. So yes, if you read deep in this one, it is because the depth truly is there.

[Antonio Valentino]

no words, just this..

((((((Marie)))))))

[Marie Anzalone]

accepted and appreciated and reciprocated... and now the crisis is over and I am again limping forward into new dynamics

[C. Harter Amos]

Beautifully told. So much of life is a balancing act; a drawing of a line you change from time to time. "The irony that is life, the despair and ecstasy that is reality". Well captured throughout.

[Emily B]

i read these words breathless . . . as if you were weaving my own tale