Good Morning Glory

Good morning glory…
blinding white sun,
vines entwined round flowers
choking life undone

by nyctinastic summer blooms 
…you rise despite our hands
that yank and tug and pull,
removing you, none can.

But something must die
for you to grow.
Something must suffocate
for you to show.

Spread your slithering tentacles,
grabbing at anything;
all disappears
beneath beauty’s smothering —

A smile for you
is a smile for death,
for kill or be killed…
summer’s Coliseum contest.

 

~ Emily C.

6.24.17

The Sound of Leaves

the sound of leaves growing 
millimeter by millimeter
stretching awake,
cell
by
cell
emerging out of winter’s persistent night

hibernating trees never fully asleep
merely conserving energy
for beauty’s rebirth
their quiet belief amidst grayest light

chainsaws dismember but never 
kill growth, for the tree adapts 
pushing out new branches
around the injury, 
seeking photosynthesis

where once was one limb, 
now there are dozens

~ Emily C.

3.14.17

I Will Write

I will write this rainy day away
break the clouds with yellow words
soak up the downpour with flowers
draw color so blooms emerge

I will blow the gloom away
nothing dark remains
winter’s hold slips a bit
so spring can come to stay

I will melt cold that’s hardened me
radiate outward to thaw the ice
light my fire internally
exhale fully to finally breathe

I will cease season’s hibernation
its grip cannot suffocate
my will insists to resist
my light will break my cave

I will write the beginning

I will write the start

I will write the new

I will write my heart

~ Em C.

3.7.17

 

******

Okay….soooo today. It’s like the millionth time it’s snowed this year. We’ve had probably 4 rounds of 3-5 inches, and several days where it’s just snowed without sticking. BUT, while I normally am not bothered by winter and dark and I actually love snow….this is getting kind of ridiculous, and I am ready for spring. We actually had more snow than Minneapolis this season. Mmhmm…climate change.

If you have a positive poem to share, either a link or a spontaneous response in comments, please share. I could use the boost. 🙂

 

 

Birdsong

A lone birdsong
sung in the gentle rain
on red branches bare
on a gray day at the lake.

As she walked in her mind
and passing by, stopped
heard its chittering talk

and waited
for the singer to show —

hidden itself, but its voice,
its voice, oh…its voice,
revealed hope
in a winter devoid.

Onward she strolled
along battered shores
in the shattered chasm
of her heart,

and faintly there, an echo
of a song by a lone bird,
— its wings flying —
sung.

~ Em C.

2.15.17

Precipice

Mountains behind gray,
I know you are there,
I feel your weight
in my heart stripped bare.

I sense your peace
roaring passionate
– feel it echoing, feel it deep,
across ocean it resonates.

Mountains dusted white,
each morning on my way,
you see me put up a fight
for a smile to rise today.

Steady stance, looming
through time indefinite,
strength, courage ricocheting
back to my own sore spirit.

Mountains above gloom,
shaken by man’s failure,
yet anchored forever firm
— I look to you for comfort.

Teach me how to root myself
unwavering in my hope,

lend me a rocky precipice,
my future’s light, to scope.

~ EC

1.30.17

Grace

Dark cannot consume,
light undying finds a way.
Reflecting rebellion arcs
off melancholy silver waves.

Like the child with a flashlight,
under nighttime tent of sheets,
illuminating truth and secrets
— all is bright underneath.

Tuck me into bed, my dying sun,
pull the down over my blue skies,
whisper me conch shell lullabies
— I leave the light on, sleep defied.

And when the seaside train awakes
and dawn, with hope, hazily breaks…

I’ll be telling stories of darkness
undermined by sunset’s grace.

~ EC

1.28.17

(*Photo by me. No filter. 1.27.17, Seattle)

Stand Up Eight

Written last March, but relevant more times than I needed throughout this year and now as I continue to recover.

Fall down seven times, stand up eight, they say.

It is many many more than that for me…

but the tally doesn’t matter, only that you stand up

that one more time, that inconceivable millionth

moment of utter desperation, to crawl out of the dark,

to grasp onto something, the smallest speck of hope

just enough to hand-over-hand yourself out of the hole.

Today was another eight, another “she should be down,

but isn’t” day, a “what will it take to destroy her”  day.

An all-out, “I’m not going to be taken down by anything!”

day, an “I forgot how it feels” to be me day, but

“damn it, I’m going to fight back, whatever it takes!” day.

The old stories in my head, of destruction and rebirth,

lows and highs, and that ever-evasive middle ground,

which I’m beginning to cede may never exist,

all the while desperately wanting to believe it does.

They look at you…people…and they think they know.

They don’t. They don’t have a clue what you’ve been through.

They see a face, maybe a pretty face, and they think they’ve

got you figured out, pinned down in a frame, stored neatly

in a square box, that you’ve never had to fight, to struggle,

that you have it all, that nothing comes as a challenge.

If they only had a backstage pass, could see what I’ve

been through, they would truly “see,” their judgment would

cease, they would keep to themselves and mind their own shit.

Truth is, we are all human, we are all here to fight for something.

Nobody is immune, we are all related, of blood, of the same

wondrous existence, one humanity, despite our attempts

to implode it, and our planet from our own selfish faulty behavior.

What a world we would live in if we supported each other,

that when someone fell for that seventh time, that a hand

would reach out to guide us back for the eighth time.

In reality, we must rely on our own strength first, dig into

deep parts of our soul, go through the dark, always go through

the dark…so you can find the light. There is no other way.

~ Em C.

3.28.16

“Stand Up Eight” ~ AUDIO voice recording on SoundCloud