I Don’t Know What She Did or Said…

I don’t know what she did or said

to make me love her…

Perhaps it was the stacking of

small kindnesses

she did for me.

Or the way she managed to hold my attention

when she looked at me and told me her stories.

Or the sharp wit that made me laugh with her.

Or the day she casually touched my shoulder,

looking down at my screen to see what I would do.

But all I did was like the feel of her hand there.

Or the day I overheard her say she thought I was handsome.

Or the day she smiled at me as she passed and said it to me.

Or the day we had dinner, and I kissed her twice,

and she let me. Twice.

I don’t know what she did or said…

Baby Sees the Teddy Bear

In the crib, baby sees the teddy bear

and smiles.

Baby smells the powders and potions,

feel the soft hands,

hears the songs of the mobile,

sees the soft light,

and feels the warm hope,

laughs at the tickling fingers,

and sees love in his parents’ eyes.

On his deathbed,

grandpa sees the teddy bear.

And then he sees the tubes and machines,

smells the alcohol and disinfectant,

feels the soft tug of bandages,

hears the beeps of the monitors

and sees the indicator lights.

He feels the focused shifting of the painkillers,

and laughs at the fading memories,

seeing the good-bye in his legacy’s eyes.

He takes the bear his grandson gives,

and holds it to his wet cheek,

and smiles.

The Vale of Love

She took him to a quiet place

so beautiful to see.

A place of fragrant flowers,

cool green grass

and fruitful tree.

“Now pledge your love to me,” she said

“And I will pledge to you.”

“I cannot pledge,” he answered

“for my love would prove untrue.”

“What jest is this?” she asked in rage,

her brow now stern and cross.

“I love another, fool. Now go! Begone and take the loss.”

The dagger point just broke his skin.

“The only loss is life, for when we loved

you pledged your heart and promised me to wife.”

“I care not if you love me now.

I will not be a fool, so you will be my husband

til your dotage when you drool.”

He fought her for his lady love,

fought long and hard and rough.

They both were bruised and bloody,

and the scarred skin would get tough.

But in the end, she held his heart

cupped in her broken hands,

and walked and walked and walked with it

to far and distant lands.

And somewhere in the Vail of Love

a heartless man does lie.

For legend says the Vail of Hearts

is where loves go to die.

Black Magi 2

You

played by the rules, stayed off the streets,

out of the pipeline,

and never brought static to police radios.

With honors, you walked across the floor

and brought tears of joy to your family,

and a smile on the face of your girl.

You took the scroll that said you did the work,

that ‘school’ was over, and ‘life’ could begin a new chapter.

Know this too,

Black Magi…

those who toiled in the hot sun,

they see you.

Those who endured the lash and the dogs,

they see you.

Those who were broken,

taking their ‘master’s yoke with downcast eyes,

they look up to you now,

and see you.

Those who taught themselves to read by candlelight and lanterns,

risking their lives to pass down the knowledge you were (finally) allowed

to access through the front door,

they see you.

The world over,

the ones who suffered to survive

so you could one day strive to achieve

what they could not,

they see you.

From the bottom of the oceans,

still wrapped in rust and barnacles,

turning to silt on the sand floor,

they see you,

Black Magi.

As one, their spirits lift their heads and eyes,

and every one of their voices, and sing to you

through the centuries of their love and pride.

What happens now, Black Magi?

Who will

you

see?

Unblended (3)

He examined her like a (w)horse…

talked of her strength and prowess,

and the power of her potential

to turn him a profit.

And in the desecrated marriage bed

of his sickroom, he treated her like a

(w)hores,

watching his ill-gotten get

pad his ill-gotten gains.

And in the quiet after midnight,

her tears and blood could not be placed

on a speared sponge, and touched to

chapped, split, sobbing lips.

And sometimes in the quiet after midnight,

the midwives did their cleaning up,

and sometimes the scavengers fed.

But in the best of cases,

the sires of their own ‘property’

took their child’s place

in the unmarked, remote, and lonely graves.