what makes a hero?

I have never been much
impressed by dragon-slaying knights
or by men who aspire
to be such.

For what does that require,
really, but a long sword or spear
and a marked deficiency
of adequately assessing risk?

Show me instead
the one who tirelessly woos
the savage beast,
approaches
and befriends it,
not so much taming the creature,
which is by nature untamable,
but building instead a mutual trust
and affection, gaining an ally
of immeasurable power
and strength.

This, my friend, is a feat
worthy of legend,
and you may mark my words,
if ever accomplished and immortalized
in story and song, we will sing
of no man,

but woman.

 

ever after

one day
   my prince did come
only he was bleeding still
   and limping badly
      from the terrors
      of his journey

even now his pain
   his demons
never cease in the torment
   of his battered body
   of his broken mind

there are moments white
   and rare
when he quiets
   to the whisper of my song
when I might brave
   a touch
when his eyes may rise
   to meet mine for one brief
      and brilliant flash

but most of the time
   he sits apart
      trembling in his grief
swearing and shouting
   for his drink

unencumbered

 

 

 

pare away the unnecessary
the self-serving elements
pull off all want and need
neither requirements
nor conditions
may remain

love unencumbered
will meet no
boundary
on its way
and this
must
find
its mark



reunion

We gave in that day
to laughter
long and delicious,
not at all our usual
smile-then-back-to-business.
No...

We lifted up a rare and
precious music
together surrendering to
simple delight
as the canopy of green spilled
innocence down in droplets
of blessing.

But walls that had so long contained
my spirit, built stone by stone
of remembered pain,
mortared with shadows and secrets
by long labor of my own hands,
fell away
some way
in this Sharing.

Startled, my smile began to falter…

In that moment,

I saw you

for the first time
in years

and my heart swelled
to sudden pain,
unaccustomed
to the light.

ashes, ashes

chestnut curls drift
in lazy whorls
strangely
slowly
to the floor
time itself
reluctant
to touch her

but hair will grow
again not knowing
how relentless
is this blade

   clothes torn
   hair shorn
   nothing left
   to cut

reluctant fingers
relax their hold
cold clunk
of steel on counter

   ashes

she turns
from the mirror
seeing nothing
hearing nothing
feeling blessed nothing
near the surface in this moment
but the urgency of ashes


   there must be
   something here
   to burn



~jws
reworked from 2006 version


Linking up to dVerse ~ Poet's Pub Open Link night.

offering

I hold

the weight

of this day’s

silence

one more

heavy

offering

to place

upon the

altar

of stones

stacked

high

each still

throbbing

with living

heat

of all that

would be

spoken

if not for the

crushing

severity

of this

sacrifice

I have

required

of me

and I struggle to remember

the why of it.

(From the archives, April 4, 2009)

October

dry leaves
   rattle
rustle
     in the evening
   breeze

each rasping
   sigh
dying
     a whispered
   lullaby

~

joining in Open Link Night at dVerse~Poet's Pub