(Jealousy, Petrus Renier Hubertus Knarren, 1861)



I was too late in coming, too late in finding you

The same stars, the same chart, the same soul’s journey, except

She came first

First to kiss you

First to make love to you

First to marry you

First to give you what you needed, what you wanted

Purpose, meaning, love

You gave her your dreams

She made them hers

Two, intertwined into one, forever bound

I was too late in coming

But I am here

Now what?



(Coniferous Forest, Ivan Shishkin, 1893)


Trees have a calmness in their silence

They whisper, talking among themselves in another realm–

the place of where fairies live, I am told

It is only when we are silent do we hear them,

with our soul’s ears; our mind’s eye

The voices of the feathered echoing in the chambers of their majesty

a symphony of the skies if one listens closely

I listen

I jolt by the awakening,

back into my body, my eyes flutter, or is it my brain?

Either way, I am back

Gone far from the stillness that I found refuge

The cool air that was breezed against my skin,

the pillars of protection that surrounded me as I stood suspended in my escape

The mossy path below my feet softening my journey to nowhere;

to anywhere but where I am

Oh, how I want to go back where peace lives, where my stillness isn’t taken from me

Where I know I am not battered

My spirit not lost among the daylight

Joy suppressed, pushed down,

covered up by anger thrown at me, pummeling and constant

Drowning out the music…the whisper of the trees

Why must I endure this chastisement of who I am; who I want to be?

It is foggy as I begin to see

the white ghostly haze floating in and out of the trees, slowly lifting away

It must be a metaphor, the blurring of my reality

The lines never clearly defined; life never fully written



Will I Am



(The Composer Mihaly Mosonyi and his Wife, Henrik Webber, c. 1845)

Will I Am

It was your eyes; the turn of your lips

Your arm wrapped around her in ownership

Pride? Acceptance?


You have come into yourself

I have been waiting for that, knew it would always come

It is handsome on you!


I never doubted

Never once did I see the limitations

I am maternal

My heart knows no limits, sees no resignation of despair

Only pathways, corridors to the unknown

No one can predict what is on the other side,

Fear restricting the possibilities


But I always saw

As I see now

A man unto himself, exuding that which you buried

The despair that had tormented; the unbearable pain for which you submerged into obscurity

Only to reappear a shell of your humanness

Did I remind you too much of what lay entombed?

Did you not see I was your savior?


No, I shan’t discuss the betrayal

The damage of my heart left to drag on the tethered strings of the severed connection

Ribbons that tied up our beautiful friendship

You never looked back at the remnants of those threads

As I mourned the death of you; of us

As I walked onto another path, another corridor

Not knowing where it would lead me without you


I  glimpsed at your future, and it was lovely!

You caught it, didn’t you?

The thing you could never grasp, breaking you–changing you

It is a beautiful thing…happiness, joy, love

My heart overflows for you, as it always had, and always will

For only in life are our bonds severed; our souls are threaded in the heavens forever




The Black Cape



(The Absinthe Drinker, Pablo Picasso, 1902)


The Black Cape

The thick cloak of black and wool

Splayed outward to the darkening skies

Undulating in the wind

A hawk’s eye, targeting my vulnerability

The kill is yours…I have no where to run

No refuge offered–the guardians are all asleep

Lay  upon my weakened bough…

Not for comfort or warmth

We know better–you and me–we have danced this dance before

Do I open my eyes, or shield myself from the horror

Is one better knowing, or hiding?

Either way, there is no mercy

Only bloodshed, wreaking havoc on my humanness

It is no wonder I have become invisible, unable to see the light that once burned fiercely inside

I think they called it innocence, now downgraded to wisdom…if you can get there without surrender

The land mines are many, few too many times a direct hit

Pieced together, scar tissue binding the shreds, bearing similar shape of what keeps the the life force flowing

Preservation is restored

But at what price? A scarecrow without a brain? A tin man without a heart?

I have learned the drill: cower and recoil

Time has no clock; pain has no limits

The darkness will eventually be lifted, but not before retribution has been paid

















Night Coffee


(Coffee, Richard Diebenkorn, 1959)

Night Coffee


The dark brew gurgles

Froth a sin of my delight

I smile in secret

Am I wicked for the indulgence?

Quiet is the night, under no scrutiny

My desires are uncaged

Let out to air

Imagining the impossible

Pondering the what ifs

It’s just a moment or two

My retreat from drowning

My escape, if you must know

The mere pleasure tied to my kindred

Destiny fooled for a moment

Or at least, suspended

Whilst I sip, submit and succumb to the seduction







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(The Kiss, Edvard Munich, 1897)


Do you not see that we are tied by one string?

Our love shrouded

Woven in the fibers of the heavens

Lost at first breath

Shades of grey, but not forgotten

You see in your mind’s eye

I am as real as you

Flesh within your grasp

Our breath as one

Lips upon lips, hand into hand

Your body enraptures me

I fold into you; sanctum

You embrace with all that you are–all that I need

All that I am returned unto you

I want to scream, “Wake up!”

But it is I who dreams

My tears wet upon my cheeks reminding me

There is no one there

Just darkness





(Love and Pain, Edvard Munch, 1895)



Tormented soul

Why do you suffer?

Why do you swim around in the mud only to sling it towards those that stretch out their hands?

You do not see the light

Draped in blackness of your own making

Breathing is heavy, eyes wide, mind panicked

Casting  doubts on your saviors


Taint all that is good-all that you are

Doubting God’s perfection; the sin of Eve

Breathe in the payote of the damned

Cradle in their claws

Comfort for a price, I warn

They do not give so freely

Your soul is payment


Mark this moment; the stopping of time

The last touch of my skin

Our hearts pressed against each other

My tears choking

You’ll mourn this moment, this life I so freely gave you

Mocking my worth; stamping on my sacrifices

All for self love


What was my sin; my debt to repay?

Has God no mercy of the price I have already paid?

I  humble myself because of you–before God–the lessons I am to learn

Cursing my path to damnation; your road to perdition

I weep, will continue to weep, and will always weep

For you are not just mine to give, but mine to give up

I set you free…