oneinillinois

Today, a bit of my heart broke Just the tip Way down at the bottom Rather squishy and round Not pointed, nor crayon-red like children draw It surprised me to hear a crack But I did Distant and seismic at the same time I have looked high and low for the little piece Then I thought that you probably have it Wrapped in the small of your hand Keeping it warm No need to return it I rather like that you are holding it still Like I held you in my heart Until

The Gardener shows the way To a forgotten corner, hidden among rotting silk weed He pulls back the curtain and there it grows Green stems holding red, yellow, orange and surprising blue buds Oh, purple too Alternating hues Strangely new; I had never seen it before And familiar; like I knew it grew here all the time “Yup, she started about six months ago.” The Gardener begins “We cut her back, and she just sprouts some more. Like a weed.” He pauses then, hand on chee

I am no ghost to you Returned, as if from the dead Your shape fits mine, and mine yours That frightful stream, the one that bore your pain The one the singers sang about Has passed And a new creation is born in its place (Have they written a song for that too?) We bare our souls, ourselves to each other No more tangled words, but simple Grace And all our shame, our pain is borne away As we greet each other in this new day.

Continuation of poetry of self-discovery, love and love lost

High on the bluff sits a soft blue beach house Wooden stairs climb from the ocean beach below A little girl descends to the sand She spends the morning walking out a good half mile Low tide reveals how shallow the ocean can be Snails dig in puddled water; seaweed drapes the sand bars Upon her return, she decides to visit the beach house It is small; two rooms and a glassed in patio that faces the water The kitchen, scarcely stocked, Boasts a bent pan and coffee ma

“So, I have something to tell you.” “Yes?” “I’m gay, you know.” “I know; I have known; I wanted to forget.” “It took more than 30 years for me to remember.” “I know.” Silence ‘Did you not want me to know? Did you want me to try to forget like you?” “That would have been easier.” “For who? You? Because it hasn’t been easier for me.” “I know” Silence “So this is who I am.” “I know.” “No going back.” “I know.” Silence “You might have said something

You with your long hair, sitting beside me but turned away and silent Avoiding my eye contact, you communicate that you are not interested, perhaps even troubled, with what I have to share. Fall leaves burn outside; some farmer clearing his field. As I lean toward you, I catch the fragrance of the lotion that you put on this morning – flowery, but not too sweet; clean and fresh. My mouth is dry and uncomfortable now. I have no doubt that you will taste rich and satisfying. Silence

Married to a man for 19 years. In October, 2010, I realized I was gay. This is that story.

One stream, first small, then widening, only to narrow again Cuts its way through familiar earth We wash our hands here and wait for inspiration And as we sit, a new spring emerges Unexpected and unwanted (Or is this the Inspiration we sought?) We work it out – parting our souls one from another, painful journey ahead Your judgment has begun and ended my sense of new found stability I could have lived on the fruitless side Marrow sapped Yet safe and secure But I