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Tomorrow I will be featured here in edition Volume 1, No. 5. Please take the time to check out this fairly new and thriving community showcase blog curated by Adriene Joyce. There are so many lovely things there to be found, and I am thrilled to be contributing!
aw, you’re too sweet!!!! Thanks for making my night! :)
Aww, you’re welcome! Glad to know it matters :)
I wish all of these wonderful people knew how much I adore them.
astronautssleepinspace
burningmuse
to-jupiter
clavicola
wistless
scottiehughes
shesanargonaut
dtwocubed
sleepinginthewashroom
I didn’t quite understand, until you.
These half lessons
scribed within a single footnote
were only reveries—
marks that wholly saturate our lives
with a single dip of the inkwell.
Cords of color stretched
secretly around your fingers,
and smiling, I wept.
Too brittle to say no
after a thousand times passed.
You are wearing it well.
There was no question
no judgment of right or wrong,
only hands cupped receiving this essence.
Too brittle from the wear
of saying yes to personal injury
to find the strength to say no to you.
May your good take all of me.
May your good always belong.
©2012 Jessica Stephenson All Rights Reserved
I wind myself up into the wince and the ache, and hesitantly reach for a new prescription. I told you, I can feel this weather in my muscles and bones. I know well before the lightning comes. If I were to fall asleep, then I may not be aware of this pill burning an ulcerous mantra over and over again into my stomach. Ah, but to be numb for a day! You, who chose the easy road between your Point A and Point B— do you feel the lightness and elasticity as your inner pulleys grease themselves along? You, who stands knee-deep in marsh and shiver your way into a minimal existence— does the pain resurface in the night, masked as a disease whose cure is unobtainable? Tell me I have not suffered alone. How can a disease such as this exist, to which there are only symptoms in multiplication, and yet it has no cause and simply exists between the lock-and-key grid work of the mind? I would like to know that I may give my blood and be viewed so hollow, that only this one seed remains clear, and that it may be pitted from me in hunger as a peach is pitted for consumption, and that I may be fruit and fleshed again one day, able to rise from the ground with a natural sweetness from the body of earth, and synthesize a band of warmth from the sun into this cool, dying slab of ache that my body has kneeled to worship.
©2012 Jessica Stephenson All Rights Reserved
A challenge piece revisited.
How cold of you to shiver without me. Come as one alas, into the life of your dark and slanted, see this reflection of yours. Did we seem alive before? Across the wires, we lofted ourselves in stillness for days without wondering of the ground. Until now, we had a reason to look back for you. Tonight will lie down in the quiet of your coffin and weep. Tomorrow will be heard, a song across the wires of paper doves, our ashes swept into a silver-clouded sky.
©2012 Jessica Stephenson All Rights Reserved
NaPoWriMo Day Fifteen
A dream of cards
insinuated
that this suffering
is not mine,
but must work
through me
as the vessel.
In exchange
for redemption,
I would offer
both of my hands
as penance
if needed,
for God
has already
lifted my prayers
into being.
©2012 Jessica Stephenson All Rights Reserved
NaPoWriMo Day Thirty
A lapse in still life,
a momentary, deconstructed breath— so low,
so cool, so pale to the rise and fall.
A transient apparition,
yearning to be released nigh into this world’s
scurry and clutter in hopes to find rest
among the wakeful beasts, whose
furs are tucked into the fragile pillars of body.
A resting spool of light,
the very grass shall hold firmly to the weightless
pursuits of every man as God closes his willful hands for the last time.
©2012 Jessica Stephenson All Rights Reserved
NaPoWriMo Day Twenty Eight
My Day Twenty Eight poem is too personal to share, so I won’t be posting it. But I did write one, I swear!