Tag: Light

Written.

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I’ve written much on
feelings of sadness and dread
and loneliness and pain.

I’ve written much on
being in a state of flux,
confused.

I’ve written much on
how dreams are scary,
and how I wish *this* was different.

I’ve written much on
you and you
and you.

One could say you
are my muse.
You are fuel, at least.

My fire is burning
brighter and brighter
with every word,

every thought,
that escapes my
crumbling mind.

I’m tired —
I think I’ve written
much on that too.

But this flame,
this red-hot sore
bursting from my lungs,

from my eyes,
my lips,
screams for attention.

“Look at me! Look at me!”
it says when peace
comes to visit.

I listen, of course,
and I watch and wait,
a vessel to whatever comes.

Could I mold this fervor,
this light?
Maybe,

maybe the brightness
I yearn for
sits within me.

Maybe I will be
consumed in light —
but not in a fiery event —

simply as a side-effect
of letting whatever is inside
shine.


Light.

Published on by ARisoLeave a comment

When I die,
roll my body in a blanket of clouds
so I can forever hold the sun close.

My final resting place will be
as I always dreamed.

Light would shine down,
through me, to scatter
shadows and warmth.

I wanted to be your sunshine,
to be your chandelier,
to be your candle.

I shine for me now,
mostly out of necessity,
because to dim this light
might grant a long-standing wish,
and I don’t know if I’m ready yet.

(I hope you know,
this brightness, pouring
from my chest,
will always, always
give you light.)

Brilliance.

Published on by ARiso1 Comment

The fluorescent light shines desperately
outside the cobwebbed windows.

Blinding in design,
it knows nothing more than to attract
unsuspecting visitors.

Like a moth,
I’m drawn to the light.
Each headlight, each streetlamp,
even the sun,
I stare, seeking …

All I want is to be engulfed
in brilliant light — to be consumed,
wholly.

If I could be a source of warmth —
of light, of comfort, of security —
to anyone, I’d let them string me up
so my light could shine down,
useful.

I longed to be your light.

*Inspired by Mary Oliver



Movements of Light

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Moonlight dances across their faces,
shining through the cobwebbed windows
and tapping along their lips.

It waltzes over the plane of their cheek,
dipping into the dimples
and trotting around the nose.

The moon shifts higher into the sky,
and the waltz becomes a series of allegro pirouettes,
each spin carrying it closer to the eyes, 
until collapsing on the iris,
out of breath,
shining.

Laughter raises the light once more,
coaxing it into a tango,
weaving through the eyelashes
and up between the eyebrows.

Clouds obscure the moon,
and the light completes it’s last dance.
A Pas de Deux,
adagio,
across the smooth forehead
before taking its final rest in the crook of their ear.