Deep Water

Deep Water

By

Lisa A.Williams

I know

the way she feels-

Immersed

 in the turbulent tide,

torn between the freeing

of the waves

and the steady

earth
Standing still,

    eyes fixed on the horizon,

the moon

casts heaven’s reflection

skimming the deep.

How the lunar light

pulls to call her home

but she is earthbound,

turns away

from her reflection.

 Blanketed in

darkness,

she wears the shroud

of “happy”

and returns

to“life”

 drowning

in all its illusions.

Mermaid's Song

Mermaid’s Song

By

Lisa A.Williams

Echoes-

from sea to stone

ascend to kiss the sky,

ancient muse

earth cannot recall.

 Fins

of forever

sweep the tide

in a dance

 only the free remember.

 Her glistening rises

with the waves

as she breathes

 both sea and sky.

How the jealous land

aches for her.

I Have Three

I Have Three

By

Lisa A.Williams

I have three daughters-

 old souls

 of

my being.

In their company,

peace comes easy

as I look into our shared blue eyes.

We talk of history,

of rights and wrongs

the world has committed

 in all her glory.

We wipe each others tears

when life has dished out

more than we think

we can bear.

We hold each others  hearts,

precious beatings that they are,

blood remembering

of how they were all

once shared in a tide

of dark understanding.

I love them more

than they will ever know.

Poor Man's Eyes

Poor Man’s Eyes

By

Lisa A. Williams

I looked into

a poor man’s eyes

where darkness

filled a need

and

want filled the room

as he sat

in his corner

shutting out the world,

no longer seeing

the child’s smile-

so far from his hell

he couldn’t bear

it.

Life took his body,

riches stole his soul,

living was no answer

so he died-

a little more

 each day.

Years

Years

By

Lisa A.Williams

 World riddled

with  uncertainty

and endless

letting go

just as we begin

to taste and savor.

Roots-

steadfast spreading

through the dark soil

of our beginnings,

breathing in

life, then

watching as it vaporizes

into a faraway heaven which

sighs at the slightness

of our being.

Centuries of timeless songs

unearthed by

the aching which

fills the silence

                                                                  of a newborn dawn.

Desert Heart

Desert Heart

By

Lisa A.Williams

Desert heart-

nomad in a lonely land of

                                                                     fallen memories

brittle pieces of self-

cracks in the surface

only we ourselves can see.

Parched heartland

which can give no more

than what is

beneath the stone

we have set

in our solitary quest

to quench

the  undying thirst

for the why

 of us.

Records in the Snow

Records in the Snow

                                                                              By       

Lisa A. Williams

 Mother-

thin blood

 between us.

Fathers-

one stood by,

one abandoning,

his absence

always feeding

a green need.

Cast into the cold,

we found our music-

45’s

haphazardly tossed like Frisbees,

landing upright

in a dead of winter snow.

Our treasure creating

a warmer air

between us.

Rushing in-

to hear old songs-

“Hey Paula”

our first discovery,

followed by

The Tokens

and their sleepy lion.

Then the Beatles asking,

if we “want to know a secret”

and did we “promise not to tell?”

Girlish giggles,

filled the tiny room.

For a short time,

we were bonded

by our love

for the music,

only for it

to be consumed

by old hurt’s

homecoming

.

I wonder

after all this time,

if she still remembers

the records in the snow?

 

Matriarch

Matriarch

By

Lisa A.Williams

All that unsettles me

is because of you-

Madcap of indifference,

“flat effect”

they called it.

Feeling for yourself

came easy,

feeling for me-

impossible.

Through a child’s eyes,

too narrow to see, I

never understood.

Blame

I wore like

a second skin,

shielded beneath

its heavy shroud

Now I

Choose to bare

my genesis-

however pierced I feel

when I remember

                                                                  your cold glass stare.

Why

couldn’t you be

what I needed?

There’s a void

All my wishing can’t fill.

All my strength can’t erase.

Only you could occupy that shadow

and now

you’re gone

.

Who

will cradle me?

September 11

September 11

Ghosts-

in the distance

of a whisper,

always here-

always between

each others' sorrow.

Mourning

does not diminish,

it only seeks 

a hiding place

behind walls of fear

we have constructed

in remembrance of towers

thought of as forever,

reaching to God

on a sad September morning

when for an instant,

time stood still

peace was shattered

and came tumbling down

in a torrent of glass tears.

Now

a silent sorrow

as bare as bone-

screams

your names.

Dream

Dream

My offering-

was never enough.

Fair haired man,

sipping lemonade

in the garden

knew

it was letting go

I was most afraid of.

White flowers-

sinless, sun-thirsty blooms;

release, easy for them.

Willingly whisked away

by soft sweeping wind,

scattering their petals

in the hills beyond-

summer snow.

Embracing their freedom

of rootless release

from dying vines

of a soured season.

Fair haired man

led the way,

I followed.

Turning back, I saw

my chains unravel

into pure earth,

blanketed

in summer snow,

bittersweet taste

upon my tongue.

My Mother's Eyes

My Mother's Eyes

Blue communion

of 

restless sea 

and silent sky

an undertow of illness

behind those stormy eyes.

Stone

between us

always-

dark catatonia

kept you hidden.

Always I wonder

who you were,

always I wonder

what parts of me

are you?