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Love

I make my home in the depths of sorrow.

There, at the end of the hall is an open doorway,
beckoning me to run out into the cool sunshiny breeze
to smell the fresh grass and commune with the puffy clouds.
But here I stand, flat footed and immobilized
like a poor pooch chained to a burning building…
unable to move forward, but free to move back.
My shackles, chains and key less bonds are internal…and they hold fast.

I strain in vain.

It’s so dark in here.

Down the opposite hall are raging storms
birthed by angry and overbearing black cumulonimbus dread,
spitting torrents of recycled ancient acid.
They bring with them deafening Father thunder
who rages
as he announces the soul splitting actions of Mother lightning,
illuminating just enough to glimpse the horror left wherever she strikes.

Steaming stench.
Putrid decay.
Hot death.

Every now and then the sun burns through, giving false hopes that I can stay
here,
inside,
and grow my own forest,
in peace.

But only storms live in this place…
down that hall.

Every time I chase the sun back down
that hall,
the first family of destruction and despair come back…
even stronger than before…
and get between me
and the door.

Burning me.
Tearing me.
Reaching into me
and pillaging me.

Hope has become
false hope has become
no hope has become
prison,

the worse prison of all,
the one you can leave

but won’t.



Psa 30:5


©SojournerG 2007 All rights reserved

Good Morning

1,2,3,4,5

He smiled
Remembering
Sweet almond oil
Anointed her body
After a fresh shower
Amber musk woven
Into the tapestry
In all scents
Naturally associated with her

6,7, 8, 9, 10

Chocolate tips mounds
Honey colored skin
He sighed
Etching in his mind
His lips meeting
Every inch of her skin
Exhalations from her
As he treated her
To a delicious ride
On the edge of explosion

11, 12, 13, 14…

He got caught in the wave
Him entering her
In and out
Out and in
His endowment
Cocooned in her sugar walls
Sweating mixing
Skin meeting
Not knowing where
They began or ended
The last thrust took them
Over to the clouds of heaven

15-30

He forgot
Where he was
"Mister, Isn’t this your floor"
"Huh?"
"You pushed the elevator
For the 33^rd floor"
"Oh" he laughed
Regaining his composure
Hoping his internal thoughts
Did not portray
Him in the southern area

Whew!
He stepped off
Right before the doors
Closed
Wishing
He was back at home
In his kingdom
Where his queen
Gave him a wonderful
Good morning

©Shai Lynn K. Davis