Part of being human means you have to not only lose sometimes, as discussed in an earlier post, but you have to know when to let go of things—willingly, of your own volition-- whether they be work items you have not crossed off your agenda, or friendships that are not healthy or even just giving space to people you love the most. Mental partition seems to be my biggest challenge, but learning how to breathe and not be afraid of mental exodus may be the most liberating thing I learn in 2009. Today's poem is not from someone famous, it's mine alone.
Love, Lost Love
by Nicole Speulda
Speak to me the way the moon speaks
give me the round vowel sounds,
a last taste of your lips.
Our star is unfixed from orbit
once lily now ashen face,
daffodil then dandelions in the convergence of cool ecru,
of fall and peeling paint.
Tell me the colors of your new life.
Like a tree, rustle the song in your head,
the patterns that shroud your shoulders at night
the rhythm of your steps
as they drum the pavement by daylight.
I am cold and before my sorrow bends
beat out your daily dance for me.
But please don’t show me
the secret curled in the fingers
in the palm of your hand.
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