Sunday Chapel

Afternoon, a walk in the woods, I feel
the pull and pinch of past life struggling
to resurface, like springtime new growth.

I stop beneath a pair of oak trees stripped
by the winter, release my gloved fingers
wanting a campfire to relieve the itch
and ache of cold – or other hands to hold.

Over the crest, a break in the water
signals a short thaw giving me some hope
Spring will soon melt away the dreary grey.

The adventurous partner in this pair
he goes ahead of me searches, explores,
finds wonder in just about everything.

A glance over shoulder as if to ask
permission to venture farther away
he smiles when I nod, and he runs. I walk.

A slower pace to practice my breathing
– slow and steady, in through the nose, and out
through the mouth. Deliberate meditation
in our Sunday chapel by the river.

~
Siobhan
1/19/14

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An Escape Plan

As the cold settles into these bones, I
drift into dreams of warmth – you and I are
relaxed on a beach beneath sun, on sand,
listening to waves wash away the ache.

When the wind howls and steals the sound of waves,
I find us snuggled under silken sheets,
topped in the luxury of comforters
soft, with a fire in the fireplace.

My hips, bone tired, long for strong fingers
to knead sore muscles into compliance
with desire – to give in and release.

Hands still functional type key words to search
for places far away; a planned escape
where these daydreams become reality.

~

Siobhan
11/28/11


With One Voice

I sat on the steps, cold cement, warm sun,
a crowd of young and old milled about me.
Signs, placards, and the back beat of a drum.

I wonder if anything is the same
today as it was all those years ago.
Can I follow in my father’s footsteps?

Across the street I paused in front of his
image, carved from brass, and etched with his words
I have a dream…do we have the same dream?

I try to understand how you see it –
I try to understand the differences –
I do not understand how we can fight…

With one voice, as varied as we are, we
walk together in peace, looking forward.

~
Siobhan
10-16-2011


Lost Together

She does not like to be alone; lonely
sits on her shoulders, whispers in her ear,
blankness lays beside her.  She doesn’t need
small-talk, banter; and she has batteries
for that solitary release in the dark.
It’s the understanding silence of him
she misses; the partner who trusts her look
his way, the unspoken rush he gives her
when they touch accidentally, bare flesh
brushing memories of a recent kiss
to the surface, that guides her hand to his
without words. The eloquence of his eyes
swallowing the world around them – quiet
in a crowd, both of them lost together.

Siobhan
09/14/2010


From Here to There
 
Once upon a time… the classic begins.
The fairytale that is not fantasy
was harder to read in the beginning;
now it is simply a story of life –
survival.  Which path, which ending we choose
hides within our separate hearts. Together
we traveled through the past, finding today
unfamiliar, not what we expected.
 
Your legs are broken, my heart much the same.
Each heals; dares to run again. The questions
our gauntlet; must we navigate blindly,
each uncertain of wants and desires
or can the answers be easily found?
Is the past a present for the future?
 
 
Siobhan
April 30, 2010


February Skies

Captured in the frozen shallows,
winter shadows hide
the warmth of her heart from all
who would touch it.

Longing not lessened,
nor music silenced,
her off-key lilt and grace
seized by the season’s cruelty, she is
fragile as crystal, easy
to shatter.

Rippled ice reflects a memory –
a face haloed by sunshine,
brilliant blue darkened
by February skies.

Stilled within,
a piece of time held

suspended

waits

for spring’s thaw.

 
Siobhan
2/2/10


Drunk on Each Other
 
Times I find myself clinging to a life
no longer mine, I end up quietly
crying in the corner of a couch, curled
up, not sure how I reached this point – alone.

My heart hasn’t turned to stone, though I wish
it would when, awake in darkness, I reach
out to touch, find emptiness where I want
to find solid ground, a lifeline. I need
 
to hold memories at bay. Thinking gives
them life, allows them room to breathe inside me.
I can’t swim through all the tears; again hope
things will change back to what I knew before –
 
more so than any, drunk on each other –
the two of us were in those brief moments.

 
Siobhan
10-19-09