Voice
As each day
Rolls
To sun, to work, to home
And we trade text
I worry you will vanish
And this fresh
Child's discovery
Potential for offering
No judgment
Love for love's sake
Dance
I worry it will pass
Too
Soon
I am new
And I want to give
To you
My heart
My birth
For I love your voice
Your laugh
Your hundred
Surprises
You remind me
That I am not alone
You are kindred
And my thoughts
Have weight
And we can talk
Between us
And love like
True friends
For me, as a man, women are at the center of the world. They bring us all into life. Women are worthy of our highest honor and respect. We deny our deepest self by denying a fundamental truth of nature. For I believe in the power of love.... And love is the source of life...and to love is to yield...to surrender...but with strength and resilience....and wisdom...and a feminist is a person who supports and defends this deepest and source...and feminism is a recognition that women have the voice and perspective that will bring us closer to what we are.
Couple
Is there transition?
You, I, us
we?
How long is the time
When winter
becomes
Spring
When you notice
the robin breaking ground
And wonder when she left
Or maybe you forgot
You were always there
It's still Fall
Winter has not begun
Summer Distant
Yet we, already languishing
In mid day heat
birds in the empty nest
Fatten for the long trip South
The Word
I want the freedom
to look long, long in your eyes.....as long as you will let me.
languishing emotion, long enough to savor
I want to say the forbidden word.
Because it's true
In the moment, You are as beautiful and astonishing as the stars...and I think I would give you anything you asked.
For the giving would fulfill my deepest wish .
Does it have to promise the future?
A year? A month? Tomorrow?
If so, I will seal my cacoon.... And stay my tounge....I will feel it as a mute
I will refrain from voicing what might some day wound you. That is not my place.
Because the word,
promised,
may be the most dangerous word in any language.
But in those quiet times in your presence....hearing your voice, feeling your head resting on my heart....
the word....
Is truth
the world.
The syllable breath
It has its own life,
it follows it's own trail.
No one directs its path.
It has no master.
If I feel you rejoice in its place
And trust it's journey
You will honor it's place. The word will be free
Then I will say it. I will yell it,
A thousand times I will