{ Frailty }

So this is

Frailty.

And it is terrifying.

These limbs are but shadows of the powerful

Arms and legs they were before.

This heartbeat is but a whisper of the pounding

Pulse is used to be.

And these eyes are but clouded versions of the piercing

Lights they once were.

And now these muscles have slacked

So that this body feels a burden too heavy to bear.

And these fingers have fall'n limp

So that they cannot hold the pen they are so accustomed

To cradling

Between their feeble tips.

And thus this frailty

Taunts my being with a malice marked by memories--

Memories of what once was

And is no more.

{ 21 }

First we add the finger paints

And the scraps of paper laden with dragons--

Scaly,

Green,

And lopsided.

Each scribble represents the labors of my tiny hands--

Driven by an imagination spanning the universe--

Directed by feeble attempts to communicate

The dreams and aspirations

Of a five year-old.

Then we add the cleats and jerseys,

The cargo khaki camo shorts

With pockets for toads and pens and paper and bubble gum.

With these items come the years of sorting through identities--

Trying on new ones before tossing them out for the

Latest

And

Greatest

Trend that suited the agenda of my middle school mind

As I tried to pilot my way through puberty

And muster enough courage to like the girl I saw every morning

When I looked in the mirror.

Next come the plastic cards

Stamped with my name--

All bearing my picture--

Giving me freedom

In the form of licenses and credit cards and school IDs.

These objects are smaller than my preschool portraits

Or preteen wardrobe,

But they bear the weight of the years I spent

Learning what to make of words like

Potential.

And they are pocket-sized testaments of

My adventures maneuvering vehicles and navigating

High school.

But now

It is time to add life-long friendships and metro cards,

Marked up textbooks and apartments keys,

Transcripts and heartaches.

These are the things that remind me I am not the little girl

With crayons between her thumb

And her forefinger.

And these are the things that show me I have outgrown

Prom dresses and sweet sixteens.

And when the stuff of which my past is made

Is tallied,

It equals the sum total

Of twenty-one years.

It equals

A life.

Jerseys and puberty,

Crayons and all.

{ Attic }

Lonely thoughts creep through the cobwebs

While wisps of smoke lace the air near my face,

Reminding me of tobacco--

And your old corncob--

A pipe worn by years of hanging on the edge of your mouth,

Bruised by your fingertips,

Saturated with the memories you wedged into its stem.

Sunlight trickles through the rafters

As I lean back on the creaking floor.

It moans and mutters and mumbles under my weight--

Telling me I am a tyrant for forcing it to bear my body.

I tell it now is the time for quiet.

Yet it assaults my palms with dirt and splinters,

Reminding me of the days when my fingers ran freely along

These smooth oak floors.

Those were the days when armies marched between the chairs

That now stand ever silent--

Draped in sheets--

Ghosts of splendors long forgotten--

Days when our tin soldiers led the charge to victory.

Those were the Sunday afternoons when you and I

Would crouch in our church clothes

And conquer India

Before supper

And Somalia

After dessert.

You told me about the war,

And I devoured your tales of far away places

Like chocolates on a summer afternoon.

I remember the infantries that lined these boards

When once the world seemed large.

You were the towering giant

And I your eager accomplice.

But looking at the covered sofas and aging trunks,

I realize it is I who am large and the world that is small.

And now there is no one to tell me

About the far scents of curry and jasmine.

The dust is interrupted

By the tears that seep from my eyes.

Those are the only armies I see any longer.

And these soldiers march on relentlessly--

Dampening my cheeks

And soiling my shirt--

As they let my mem'ries leave stains on my face.

And you--

With your corncob pipe--

Have left me to play war all alone.

And now the thoughts that creep through the cobwebs

Have taken up residence in my mind.

And I know that for now

They are here to stay.

{ Emptiness }

I look around my empty apartment.

The walls are bare,

Screaming at me through the blank abyss of a white

That is not so very white

And a nakedness that is clothed in scuffs and stains.

The dishwasher hums in unison with the box fan,

Each one whispering of a tomorrow that will be spent in other places--

Away from here--

Some place where the walls are silent because they are draped in color.

But for now,

As I sit next to boxes piled one on top of the other, on top of the other,

On top of the other,

I realize that my life has been half deconstructed,

My good-byes are half way over,

And my will to keep pushing more than half way spent.

Because I am tired.

And the tension in my muscles has slacked so that the task of moving

From point A to point B

Seems insurmountable.

And these eyes--

The ones that eagerly devoured my environment several months ago--

Only want to be tucked in by my soft eyelids.

They are tired of looking at this disheveled apartment,

And I don't blame them.

My year--with its memories and its heartaches--has been stuffed in

Cardboard.

And somehow, the memories seem less rosy

The more they are packaged in boxes.

There is a burning in my veins,

And there are sobs creeping up the walls of my throat--

Waiting to break free from my mouth.

So I keep my lips wedged together, hoping that I will not be asked

To speak,

Because then I will not be able to keep myself from crying--

And now is not the time for that.

{ Delicate Constellations }

Smeared across a darkening sky,

Flecks of light wink at the earth's corners,

Tempting you to come

And chart your course.

Equipped with creaking boughs

And steady eyes,

You released your vessel from the docks

To set sail.

And with this burden to chase the horizon,

You left this world--old and tired--

To find a new one--

One that would douse your thirst for discovery.

Across the leagues your vessel sailed

As you plotted your way to a world untouched by men like you--

Men who carried with them the power to change it--

To chart it--

To caress its mountains and valleys with their eager eyes and stalwart tools.

Yet as you sailed,

Your spirit found a sweet release in mapping--not land--

But stars.

Your arms and legs and hands and feet

Propelled you to the heights of your ship

Where at last you found your rest and tilted your gaze towards the heavens.

Equipped with your astronomical device,

You lingered in your silent perch

Waiting for the sky to unfurl before you

That you might decipher the constellations etched across its vast expanse.

And as you rested in your sanctuary of seclusion--

With one eye closed while the other drank deeply of the intensified view

That your mechanism provided--

You began your task of sifting through the mysteries

That filled the night hours.

You started with Orion

And found the waist that marked the hunter,

Then followed the lines that led to the arms that held the bow.

And with your piercing gaze, you drew back the layers--

The exterior known to those who merely cast glances

At the rigid, majestic form.

But your gaze searched the hunter's depths,

Giving life to the one who sought the prize that remained ever aloof.

Then you shifted your weight

And moved your apparatus towards the lounging queen.

And there you discovered the curves that long to be caressed--

Clutched tight by love's firm grasp,

Yet gently held.

You were not rough with her.

But instead invited her to show you why she fled across the sky,

Why her torments plagued her endlessly,

Why she would not stop for words or woos.

And as you ascertained her secrets,

You stowed them away in humility

And continued to explore.

Having spoken with the queen,

You shifted your body once again as the waves rocked your ship ever slowly

And looked up at the seven sisters.

They hid among the brighter lights

But were not overlooked by your careful eye.

You spoke softly to them

And coaxed them out from behind the meekness veiling their resplendent faces.

And, O, how they came alive!

Dancing in a ring that fell on softer ground

Than the shores you sought afar.

Their movements trailed in the heavens and

Send soft ripples into the folds of darkness around them.

You watched and smiled,

The mysteries unraveling before your eye,

As you gleaned a knowledge known by few

And understood in its fullness by fewer still.

And after understanding what constituted the sisters' essence,

You turned to the sky at large

And etched delicate constellations of your own,

Leaving sweet kiss along the horizon,

Gently moving up to the height of the heavens.

For you had earned the right to leave your mark upon the night sky.

Then, as a man who mapped out his portion of the stars,

You set aside your tools

And laid amid the rigging around you,

Letting your thoughts linger

And intertwine with the miry blackness above

As you let it explore your depths.

Yet just as sleep tempted your eyelids--

With gentle hands and a soothing release--

A voice was heard from the deck below,

A herald proclaiming

Land.

You moved with a caution known by stiff muscles--

Of a mind long distracted by mysteries yet untouched--

And looking at the constellations you had yet to explore,

You sighed a sigh of moments well spent--

Or memories forged and cherished--

Then descended from your perch to drink in all your eyes would behold

Of your new world.

The shores lay just beyond your grasp,

An Eden untouched by your tools--

A land that blushed under your firm gaze.

But listening to the whispers that wove through your sails,

You turned once more to the skies above

And consented with a gentle nod that you were a Columbus--

Not a Lewis or a Clark--

And in persisting further, you would become a young Cortez.

So you left these shores--

My shores--

That another might come and take your place.

For this world--

With its intricacies and vulnerabilities--

Was only yours to discover.

But the day shall come

When the one who is meant to spend his years mapping out its geography

Will return to this deep harbor

And thank you for your labors.

{ Grieving }

I started with the closet

And unpacked all the boxes

That held our Kodak film.

I ran my fingers along the outline of your yearbook portraits

And your gym class snapshots

And your graduation candids

And our wedding day photographs.

That was the day I had to face the reality

You

Were never coming back.

And I told myself this was healthy--

That those shelves could not stay frozen in time,

That leaving things just

The way

They are

Would not allow me to spin back the hands of that ticking clock

And breath life into your lungs again.

So I disturbed the silence

And found the memories we hid in our raincoat pockets

And faded tennis shoes.

I fingered your sweatshirts hanging limply on the wire hangers

Near the back of the closet

Where fishing poles and cobwebs

Kept them company.

Then I pulled them off the rack,

Carefully folding them with a precision that can only be explained by hesitation:

Was it too soon?

Could this wait--

For now?

But I kept on,

Slowly removing each hanger from each neck hole

As I waited for God to stop me

And tell me this was all a misunderstanding.

I knew if it was

I could find it in my heart to forgive Him

For taking you away from me.

But with each sweater

And each polo

And each button up

I found more and more reason to believe that this

Wasn't just pretend.

And each box I filled

Marked another step

Towards finality

As my reality

Was defined by your absence.

But you must still be here.

I can smell you on the leather jacket I can't bring myself to touch.

I can hear you in the clink of each hanger--

Almost as if you're still getting ready in the morning,

Rushing to throw on whatever is convenient,

Forgetting to check if it's clean.

And I can feel your breath against my skin when the box fan murmurs in the bedroom.

I can see your shadow when the dim light creeps in our window.

I can taste your aftershave on the corners of my lips--

A gentle reminder of when I kissed you every morning as you got ready to go.

But I cannot keep waiting for you to come home.

And so

I am left to crouch on my knees--

Folding the clothes you forgot you even owned--

As I try and figure out what it means

To move on.

{ Are You Listening? }

I need you to listen

Because I'm telling you I love you.

And I need you to stop repeating excuses

And pointing to old wounds

And getting distracted

And ignoring my voice

When I whisper your name.

I need you to hear me

When I say that

I love you.

But I will not let my words stand alone--

Even though my Word is enough.

I will romance your heart until there

Can be no doubt--

Now

Or ever--

That I would die,

And have died,

Just

For you.

I need you to understand

When my actions proclaim throughout the cosmos that

I love you.

And I will not stop reminded you of how utterly

And fully

And unchangingly

And deeply

I love you.

And I will not stop pursuing the heart

That I set beating in your chest

As I push the blood through your veins

And bring the color to your cheeks--

A sweet blush of understanding--

When I tell you that you are worth more than you think.

I need you to stop giving your love

To everything that tries to compare

To how much

I love you.

Because I am a jealous lover.

And I will not take you

So divided.

I will not have you

Part of the way.

I will not be satisfied

With anything short of everything.

I need you to grasp

What I poured out

Just to have the chance to tell you that

I love you.

I want you to know that I delight

In your laughter,

That I weep when

You cry.

I want you to know that your wounded spirit

Has not gone unnoticed.

And I want you to know that your heartaches

Will not go un-soothed.

I meant what I said

When I wrote your name on the palm of my hand

And whispered to the depths of your soul that

I

Love

You.

Beloved,

I've brought you here

To tell you

That you are precious,

To tell you

That you are pursued,

And to tell you

That you are loved.

Are you listening?