great love requires great sacrifice
always has
always will

They won’t recall the words I chose,
The soul forgets the spoken word,
they’ll fade like footprints in the snow,
dissolving under summer’s heat.

But deeper into forgotten sands,
Where spirits drink from unseen wells,
The weightless grace that stood between
Flourish into palm, citrus and olive trees,

So let me be a whispered prayer
That lingers long after I’m gone,
A touch of God underneath the skin,
A warmth that carries someone on,

Not what I have or what I gave,
Not what I’ve said, but how I’ve knelt,
Not who I was in flesh and bone,
But what their spirit felt.

the beginning of the begin
is hard to nail down
so much so you just keep on going

I run my hands
through passion fruit
vines and watch
the juice drip
down my elbow,
It stains,
slow and sticky,
like blame.

I laugh,
I speak,
and the walls shrink.
Is it me?

I never know
until you flinch.

I
Flamboyán whispers,
wrapped gently by the nightfall
the coquí sings true.

II
Clouds become soft quilts,
dreams live curled in the branches
under a sky full of stars.

III
The breeze calls my name,
it smells of earth and heartbeat
my soul finds its rest.

Something is wrong in heaven,
Maybe dinner hasn’t been
Too puntual lately,
Or rays of sunshine
Have found themselves
Hiding behind the
Dark of rain clouds,
And angels hum off key,
Missing the harmony
Of one less voice
At the table,
A chair left empty,
A prayer gone quiet,
Maybe heaven mourns, too,
In its own small, quiet way.