Memory

There's something in these Finnish ginger snaps

a new recipe that my mother baked this year.

A hint of the Spirit of Christmases past

that I've failed to squeeze from Christmases present.

However, I can taste that Spirit a year later, 

in a new, unintentional memory. 

Like in a half deserted church

during an English winter,

where the icy northern wind

tore from coast, through coat,

to my bones, then my heart,

and now fills my lungs every Christmas.

Or in the Middle East

where we echoed ancient carols 

off of forgotten cavern walls

known by members of this nativity set.

Or a slaughter house,

with frost bitten hands

and a weary heart.

Or a cold quiet house 

wrapping presents alone.

Or today.

I had no control over memory 

nor could I still the wind, or calm the seas

the flood of memory, a titanic abyss,

danced me purposefully in the hands of the Divine,

His will, Her joy, My existence

Maybe that's a secret.

Eternity is not forever,

not a place without time, 

But a single moment that bursts beyond time,

a home where the ghosts of

Past, Present, and Future

sit down and share bread, tears, and laughter,

and hopefully...

a plate of Finnish ginger snaps.

The Mortal

fallen leaf corps
linens a lichen-leafed corpse,
the corporeal leaven--and
Eternal

I finally dreamed.

She stands on a mountain peak
Over thundering fogs of chaos,
Lawless matter crashing beneath her.
A wind dances her hair listlessly,
And smiling, she welcomes it.

I know her,
A titan goddess of the ancient,
the sublime of emotion
And I am beside her,
A white haired sage

Her, with a limitless passion to create
worlds without number
And I, with the wisdom and
confidence to organize it,

We stand together
and offer our covenant
to the will of the unbound elements.
This is our eternity.

*****

Awake. I wander.
Through forest, desert, ocean, and mountain
Pursuing, learning, and feeling.
On occasion I stop.
An unknown breeze laughs through my hair and over my body.
She whispers a name.

I resist holding her, the air running through my fingers like a gentle stream.
Instead I wait.
For her to envelope me, fill my lungs, and become my breath.
To call me to her dream,
And answer my own.

She chooses not to, settles, and leaves.
My quickening heart steadies.
I smile. Then continue.
Searching,
for my own goddess of the wind.

Your most beautiful memory.

When a loving embrace
was met with a broken withdrawal,

When words curtailed the wind
your surrender to silence then spoke,

And I refused to answer.

But in that moment,
where I assumed your empathy
exhausted into anger,

A crystal comet of compassion
fell earthward from a celestial sphere
and erupted into sunlight.

Shouting to me just one thing,
and lay to rest of the quiet of your lips.