Silver

I have two parallel silver strands in my hair, and I love them. They are a reminder that my youth is leaving me. Youth is a love affair I found too late, like most things I love. And like most things I love, I will hold on to it far past the time of letting go. I haven't let go. Not yet. I lean into the mirror, plucking my brow, sighing at the lines etched by stress. And life. And laughter. I lean into the mirror, thinking it could be today. Perhaps today. I will decide later.

The Boy

My son still asks if there is a Santa Claus. He tells me facts about the sun that no one has ever learned before. His excitement is quiet, but palpable. He carries a wooden sword for protection. He is never sure of when he might come across a rogue band of Yachets. That's Yah-Sheets. A race of humanoids who can only be killed if their heads are chopped off with a sword. He's never seen "Highlander" and I smile. If you cut off any other body part, it will just grow back. He'd rather be a Yachet. They don't have to deal with sisters. I say I'd miss him if he ran away with a roving pack. He says he'd turn me into a Yachet if he can figure out how to become one. His sister can go live with Nana. He practices his fighting moves just in case he is accepted, but carries his sword because he is still human. He will protect his family. Even his sister. And he tells me I'm the best mom.

Purpose

I know there is a meaning
There is a purpose
Because there is a you
And you smile

Our meaning is intertwined
In the ever-deepening lines
Around your eyes
When you smile

Our purpose is written
In the lines of my palm
I imagine caressing your face
As you smile

I close my eyes
Breathing deeply in love
Exhaling my doubt
And I smile

I remember...

I remember what it was like to breathe
after you left the room
and time slowed
so that even colors stretched behind you in confusion
leaving me to gray shadows.
I have waited here
in the space of a heartbeat,
people like pauses
giving momentary silence
to the demons drowning me.
Your hands in my hair
bring me back to the surface
with a beautifully painful shock.
And oh I remember what it is like to breathe.

Haiku

The taste of metal
I forget to breathe, heart pounds
Your shadow passes

Searching

Pixilated fog
Grayed out
White being too pure
Black being too defined
To hold my falling state
Fitting no shape
Round pegs
Square holes
Hammers crumble in confusion
No thing and no one
Can see truth
The flame you follow
Thinking it a beacon
Is a spoon bent by my mind
In my hungered turmoil
Created for tomorrow
Reflected weakly in today

Stardust

She stood before him,
Blinding in her beauty.
She held out her hand,
And he reached out in awe
That she would deign
To choose a mortal so unworthy.
They made love
Wrapped in a night like warm silk.
Lying beside him
After the last beautiful gasp,
Her fingertips traced his back.
Instead of the flesh
She'd so lovingly taken to her own,
There was left cold stone.
Beautifully sculpted marble,
Immune to her love.
Her punishment for his mistake
Of thinking her to be the goddess
Who created such nights.
Stardust fell from her eyes
As she faded away
And took to the sky
To forever bring light
To lovers otherwise lost.