Umbra



felt it coming,
darkness.

earth revolving,
rings aligned,
whispers in false twilight,
shivers in searing sun.
shade becomes night,
shadow shapes mimic
on ground, its clever canvas…
burning crescent eye in sky

while chill takes over skin.
chattering creatures calling
in flitter flight to trees,
day-rise only briefly lit,
morning woke the bees.
cut short sunrise, quietly it quit
as slipping lunar disc
slid, its blackest black
‘cross unseen solar skin,
ne’er seen with naked sight.
moon covers inch by inch —
flying 1800 miles per hour,
umbra turns out the light,
and on the night, it rolls,
a specter, a cosmic ghost
in transit coast to coast.
birds and bees go silent,
squirrels dart into empty dens,
silver light casts omens
in whispered ancestor tongues
of ancient sorcerers gone to past.
yet tears in present eyes are wonder,
witnessing science in eerie silence,
awe in precision trajectory,
rare glimpse
we dare not miss.

coldness lifts as rays return,
shadows dissipate,
animals disoriented emerge,
back to regular clockwork
as if nothing
to see here…

~ Emily C.

8.21.17


Eclipse shadows on my neighbor’s house. So awesome. What a stunning experience.

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Another Red Sun

another red sun
another night sky
another day gone by

without you

another gasp for clean air
another grasp for you here
another pass at a chance

with you

another tomorrow became today
another scream inside my head
another mistake made

beside you

another wish dies on wind
another kiss left hanging
another you left me

bleeding heavy

another us never happens
another we is in the past
another time sought fleeing

memories

 

~ Emily C.

8.6.17

Last Sound

Sun is at my back
my shadow long
grass is tall
I’ve lost the ocean
I’ve lost my sea

Sun is setting
it’s all I can see
it’s all I can feel

My shadow blows
on bending reeds
forever pointing
ninety degrees
east of me
away from me

I’ve lost my ocean
I’ve lost the sea
life is sinking
dark is all I see
dark is all I feel

Sun drifts down
behind my back
forgetting my name
I scream “I am here”
I scream

but
sun returns to cave

My feet walk onward
following those reeds
following those reeds
who know more than me
point me some direction
…any
any but back
any but back
any but back

Did you know
train tracks whistle
before the train arrives
the last sound heard

warning no one
in time

~ Emily C.

6.10.17

Murder by Light

I let the sun in.

when drapes parted,

a smile born.

cacophony of spring

chirping.

then, thunk

feathers flutter

bits of dirt stain

glass mirage

of endless flight,

and

somewhere

in the yard

an injured, no, no.

a dead bird.

I killed him.

murder

by light.

drapes close

tonight.

 

 

~ Em C.

3.29.17

Red

The sun is her lover

He comes for the dark

She beckons with red

She reckons she’s dead

He tells her in wavelengths

Her life is worth diamonds

He tells her in photons

Her heart is a fierce lion

~ Em C.

2.13.17

***

Here’s my vulnerability: I rarely wear my hair down. And I rarely wear red lipstick. In part because my lips are so big (yes, they are all natural), that it’s all people see when I do wear it. So, I have to plan accordingly, wisely, save it for times I don’t mind being seen. A lot of times, I don’t want to be seen. So I guess, here I am opening up to you and my quirks.

And the sun, the glorious sun is shining. I have to strengthen my smile muscles after a year of shit.

Shadow Doll

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When the light breaks to play
casting shadows it does portray
lines and curves and profiles
of a doll against her wall

what does she do but dance
a little, strike a post in time
capture her youth before
it dies its death of her

so still
becomes the breath
so naked
becomes the flesh
portfolio blushes in shades
of gray on a sunny Seattle day

~ Em C.
2.8.17

*******
Photograph: of me, belongs to me. No filter. May not be used or copied without permission (yes, this has happened to me recently).

I was struck one summer day some years ago when the sun broke through and lit the wall a golden hue. I stripped down to nothing and took a series of shadow poses. I stumbled across this one today and the memory came back.

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)