Space, this is how I want to fall in love.
Utter closeness and respect, a safe assurance, and a trusted feeling of acceptance, rested in permanence.
the sensation of new tradition, international beauty, mosaic art and century-old wood.
the seduction of craftsmanship, the eroticism of a cal-king, the commitment of a waterfront view and the affection of dimmed lighting.
the morning flirtation of rain showers, clapping music of tropical drops on elephant leaves.
the contradiction of sand between my toes and the mediation of a coastal breeze on my back.
I’ll stand between the warmth and history of white stones
And pay my homage with shuffled steps of fine gravel, glittered walkways.
I’ll eavesdrop on murmurs of fountains
And gossip in the evenings behind the candlelight.
I will sleep with Adventure beside me
And dream of another day that is solved in this Space.
Space, this is how I want to fall in love.
In the courts, in the pavilion
in the center with my God
Behind the gate, as His daughter
Sings and sighs, with letters and
chatters to her Father.
I am telling Him stories
and He listens patiently
Allowing my laughter and
Amazement fill His room.
He talks with me in a steady
gentle voice called Forgiveness
and wipes away my tears with Grace.
He corrects me in His Mercy
and I sit up to play a new song for Him.
TED.com – the power of poetry
I needed to share this TED talk with Cristina Domenech. I hope it moves you to write, explore, express and launch your creativity with courage.
a loving home
where energy is protected
streaming acts of kindess
where we feel we could get help
where the mind clears
the body rests, works,
souls are energized
hearts are mended
fixtures are new and pleasing
food is cooked wholesome
served with care
cleaning is a form of meditation
organizing is easy and fluid
prayer is second nature – fervent and effortless
forgiveness isn’t a chore
cheering and creativity are rampant
emotion is jubilant through original songs
trained to host the wounded & confused
select random adventures to enjoy the night sky
industrious and forceful in the
the business and busyness of love.
wooden “aloha” sign above your head
“welcome” mat of sea grass at your feet
Come inside, Beloved.
Build this home.
“She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.” Proverbs 31:27
Is it passing your belief that God led me to cross the ocean at such a young age, to expose me to the love and art of sound that you know so well?
Was it only the angel’s clumsy coincidence that I swim through turbulence, only to immerse in books and stories that equal my conversation with you now?
Even recently, do you overlook the orchestrating of the Great Conductor, who removed things that served as my distraction, only so I could focus on our own wandering thoughts?
Have I come so far, to be devoured for one weekend and be delayed in time?
Would I wait, Beloved, until your work produces enough satisfactory paperwork for you to file? Would you wait, Beloved, until I am equipped to make the same drive you do?
All the while, are we busying ourselves with sensibility, and sacrificing the life that is “ours?”
How much longer do we have?
How many points do we each need to earn?
How much of each other’s cares must we take seriously, before we act?
Have I already made the promise and not told you?
Am I so foolish or faithful to do so?
What is Honor to me, Beloved? Or status? Or title?
Haven’t I grown beyond that?
Haven’t I grown to fill it?
What are presents and rings, flowers and chocolates, that show me my importance?
Would it be knowing you breathe deeply in the night and your knowing that I wake slowly in the morning?
What have I to study but righteousness?
What have I to sing but patience?
What have I to plant but devotion?
What have I to write but love?
What have I to listen to but your promise?
You choose how to honor me.
[Originally written 7, September 2009]
Cleopatra in the quiet
Bathsheba on the rooftop
Backseat weapons keeper
Of your leather with your guns cocked
Be I Eve after the serpent
The harlot at the gate
Clutch me with my skirt up
Breathe hard and heavy
When you wake
Sugar sure between my hips eh
Summer salt lust in my throat
Mark your fingerprints in places
In my spaces down below
From your pocket
Pull up right behind my question
We been jamming justice
For an hour
Come undo my disposition
It’s a little nasty and I love it
You answer thick and ready
For the storm
Forget that other birthday cake
I keep this batter warm.
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