for you I’d wait
everyday, my darkest haze
and for you, I’d sway
I’d dodge the loudest fate
I would forever sing
songs for you and I

feet stumbled creating melodies
hands injured writing stories
but nothing ever made you stay
so I’d dance, for me and I

In November, I settled into the holiday spirit.
I found my joy in coffee shops and bookstores.

In December, I steadied myself for the Christmas craze.
I spent my time at the mall shopping for gift wrap and mistletoe.

In January, I failed at keeping New Years resolutions.
I surrendered my hunger to restaurants rather than eating dinner in my own home each night.

In all of these places,
I looked for tables not by the front doors,
I hid in warm corners to read my books,
and I watched the snow fall from
closed windows
on second stories
where the blizzards
could never touch me.

However happy this time is supposed to be,
I still had to isolate myself to the indoors to stay away from all the twists and turns that the season brings.

And that harsh breeze you feel when walking by an open door in winter.

When writing letters I'd use fountain pens because-
ink runs smoothly alongside my words.

When drawing a picture I'd use fountain pens because-
I feel transported into times of great art.

When telling my secrets I'd use fountain pens because-
I wear confidence best when I'm alone.

When crafting poems I'd use fountain pens because-
I feel proud as poets should.

When writing letters I'd use fountain pens because with them,
I write poorly.

And I want my loved ones to know I tried.

Mindless of the wishes of the nation,
Ignoring what is right and good and proper,
Telling us that only you know what is best for us:
Christianity run amok for self aggrandizement.
Hell can’t possibly be hot enough for you, McConnell
              LJM

Reality is circling around, all sharp with spiky thorns,
For another go at my fragile little mind
That floats like an over-inflated balloon
At the end of a long and fraying cord

Fantasy comes like a hand-knit velvet shawl
To wrap my heart in peaceful comfort,
Protecting it from barbs and slashes
That would prove the dream unreal.

Uncertainty in the form of wind begins to howl
And drowns the etude in cacophony,
Whipping up the desiccated leaves of Autumn
And stirring thoughts of grave endeavors.

Resignation gradually lays down the scimitar
That once set out to rearrange the world
And now is full of nicks and scratches,
So much heavier to carry than before.

Acceptance like a gentle winter snowfall
Settles on the jagged shards of effort
And the broken bits of unbuilt mansions,
Making it all calm and smooth and peaceful.
ljm

Dad was fat all his life
Obese
He couldn’t do a lot of things.
Walk without special help
Bathe
Climb stairs
Sit in a normal chair
Drive a normal car
Sleep in a normal bed
And say “I love you, son.”

To draw those words out
of his dad he became a cartoonist,
but that also failed.

And now that his father
was dead,
collapsed face down
on the kitchen floor,
blood seeping out of a head wound,
he struggled to turn him over
on his back
and dipped his finger in the blood
and drew a speech bubble
next to his father’s head
and wrote in it the famous words.

Finally.
“I love you too, dad.”

THE ANGRY WATERS
that recoiled and threatened a tsunami
lie placid now, bacalmed and still
as shiny as a glass topped dining table

THE HOWLING WINDS
that longed to be a hurricane
have settled into zephyrs and soft breezes
that barely riff the petals of the autumn roses

THE RAGING THUNDER
that tried so hard to break the windows
has rolled on and is nothing but a distant echo
that recedes as fast as memories of childbirth pain

THE VICIOUS RAIN
that threatened to go flooding
has slacked off into a gentle winter mist
that wraps the dawning sun in silken haloes

THE VOLCANIC FLAMES
that lept across the sky as lightning
have danced across the hills to other valleys
leaving only ozone to mark where they have been

AND I AM SPARED AND WHOLE
Unwounded and unscarred
Undamaged by their passing
Unscathed in places that should bleed
And safe in who I plan to be
At last the God of Hope
Has noticed me
And offered me
His hand to take
And walk into
Tomorrow.
          ljm