Everybody has something to say,
you know,
but when I write my mind,
I believe every thought is singular.
In the moment, why,
I am about to fall-off the edge of my seat,
painting each word that gathers me-up
in childlike-fascination.
I am dancing on the page in my finest shoes,
arms in flight,
toned like a ballerina’s,
and the object is to fly—
Into that place I am:
free,
or burdened,
broken-hearted,
or magic,
middle-aged,
or, oh so young again…
I am.
When I can have things uncomplicated,
or nail them down like a tombstone.
Final.
Death and Daisies—
The way it shakes me sometimes!
Realizing the reality…
I’d rather be a raindrop,
falling-upward like
treble keys on a piano.
The pink little girl in me—
Swirling like cream in a cup.
A dancing statue in a jewelry box!
Before jagged-edges…
Still, there always was sadness:
Born that way,
searching what’s missing.
***
I fell from a star,
the dark, vast universe,
where there is always noise,
sometimes frightening,
but you are a part of this living entity,
not separated by birth.
Then you become a dream to yourself,
with a family,
and a brass bed.
Experiences count themselves plenty.
It’s your birthday,
first day of school,
summer,
last,
learning to drive,
lost virginity,
marriage,
sister’s cancer,
a daughter’s birth,
money,
spiritual-growth,
broken-bones,
revolving door…
But never home to my lover,
with whom I’d live and die!
***
This is not my perfect skin,
The supple kind everything rolls off of—
I’m sad!
Woman,
a princess and brat,
brave warrior.
What is the point?
To create a movie life—
On and on and on…
Though now, I am remarkably tired.
I can’t climb
around myself,
always in the way.
Promise me you’ll try?
Because after all there must be meaning—
Yes, yes…
But to be safe,
feel loved,
understood.
to give…
B e l o n g.
Those are all okay things, I guess.
Not to be a penny tossed—
(Or a wish lost.)
Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2014 All Rights Reserved
Dellymari's Blog 