I know
you’ll say
with a pat of
a reassuring hand
“It will come again,
It will.
There will be another.”
And while
you mean well
and I even believe you
this morning
my skin
is longing
to be touched
and lightly,
my lips
to be brushed
with a kiss, sweet
and my eyes
to be held
in a gaze beyond
fondness, stirring
shared.
Allow me this.
For I am open
but missing,
not “him”
more than
another
for
a deep breath
of love’s burning
smoke.
If you would like to hear me reading this poem, you can do so by clicking here.
Hallelujah, Linda!! I love this!
Your talents as a wordsmith (and photographer) are matched only by your gifts as a performer. What if you performed more of your own work? Is there a space where you could do that?
Oh, Heather! Distilled pain, raw longing.
You are such a fine wordsmith, but you also have A Voice, in every sense of the term. Have you thought of doing performances of your own writing?
You are a poet!
Do you know it?
😉
The openness to love is what fuels the perpetuation of our humanity. Good for you, Heather!
Thank you, Edgar. I hope you continue to heal well.
Nope. When I sing it is even lower! xo
An empath I most certainly am, as you know, along with the constraints that can put upon a person…but…I am also a classically trained theatre actress so maybe my not sounding typically American (of which there are many variations) can also be linked to that? Much love to you and gratitude for our complicity!
Mahalo, B.
The air is full of longing and hidden pain.Your voice adds strength and mystery.