Sarah Spang

Sarah Spang Jun 2015

He told her she was pottery; a vase with grooves and cracks.
The patterns of the history she hid behind her back.

Within his words he layered in- like thread upon a loom-
The sweetest undercurrent to illuminate that gloom.

In certain cultures, he decreed, when pottery is cracked
They aggrandize them with gleaming gold to bring their splendor back

For they believe, with certainty, once damage has been wrought
Those tiny cracks, now filled with light, hold truths that can't be taught.

#love #sadness #seperation

Sarah Spang May 2015

If I Had a Way Back

If I had a way back, I'd ride through the dark and the dawn
I'd ride along the ticking hands, before our time was gone.
If only for another day, a minute, second, moment
I'd reach beyond the veil of time to grasp your hand and hold it.

Sarah Spang May 2015

Time Passed... I didn't

Many months had whispered by
Unbeknownst to me
The sheaths of ice retreated slow,
And buds furled from the trees.

I had not stopped to grasp and hold
The notion laying stagnant
Within my chest, there thawing too
A sunken, fading, fragment

This withered seed, this dying shoot
Lay wilting in the dark
Until my sightless, bourbon eyes
Saw what was in my heart.

Sarah Spang May 2015

Over the Grass, Under the Sky

We watched the NASA rocket launch
Two years ago in fall
Over the grass, under the sky
Behind the ball field's wall.

I raised my hand above us there
And traced a constellation
And while you laughed, corrected me
I scowled in consternation

Then there- above- a streak of orange
Ripping the dim horizon
A trail of light, a touch of fire
Grew brighter, higher, rising.

Your forest eyes, your white-teeth smile
Stretched wider, shown like mirrors
I saw the rocket's upward path
In eyes, so deep and clear.

I could have watched your face for days
Painted in the glow
The fascination burning there
I'd never come to know.

Sarah Spang May 2015

Yearning for the Forest. (dedicated to Green)

I long for earthen forests, deep
And steeped in mystery
The branches curving overhead
Are all I want to see

I want to be the soil, rich,
In which you sink your roots.
The dark, safe place from which you rise
And send forth budding shoots.

I want to keep you grounded, safe,
When high winds bow your peak.
I want to be the gentle place
You fall when you grow weak.

I want to be the canvas which
In fall you toss your paint.
Cover me in golden leaves
That flutter down like rain.

Sarah Spang May 2015

The Driftwood, Fire and Sea (unrhymed version)

Your eyes burned
bluegreenblue
Driftwood fires
Your essence clashing
Cracking
Burning with the knowledge;
The salt of the sea.

I had placed you there
Sun-bleached beachwood,
Hesitant fingers coaxing towards the flame
Knowing all too well the reaction
The mark that the sea had left upon you; left you with nothing but treebones,
Accusing, twisted fingers pointed towards the sky.

And I, somehow danced
Consuming you both with bitter abandonment
Savoring both the brine and the earth
As if I knew you not from blood and chocolate;
From sweetness and necessity.

Sarah Spang May 2015

The Driftwood, Fire, and Sea (rhymed version)

Your eyes burned and danced between
First blue then green, then blue
The driftwood fires, beachfront pyres,
Your essence clashing too.

Cracking, burning, twisting with
The knowledge close at hand
The truth within the salted seas
That lap and brush the sand.

I had placed you there and you
Like sun-bleached ocean wood
Went willing trapped up in my grip
Although you understood...

The mark those waters left upon
Your brittle, scorched treebones
Your twisted fingers skyward
With your back against the stone.

And somehow I, though conflicted, danced
Around you both between
Consuming and devouring
Both fallow earth and sea.