My wine is laced with the taste
Of a half sung song—
And tastes of time;
Time between teardrops.
My song is laced with
A courage I don’t know
From where it comes
And tastes of time
Between teardrops.
Courage often escapes
From my heart
Like a bird longing
To be free of all
Masks on kindness,
On generosity,
On freedom and
On love.
It is like a poem
Put to pen
Nudged into hand
By something
Undefinable;
Yet as present
As you and me.
Often I don’t feel
Prepared
Or good enough.
Often the words
Moving against the page
Seem coming from
A zillion galaxies away.
Often a light grows
Bright,
Even on a grey
Close to winter day.
All this in the time
Between my teardrops
That say
Surrender
To my heart on fire
Sitting in the soul–
Soul sitting
In God’s Hand;
God sitting
Where consciousness
Resides
Like the birth of a baby
Never severed
From the cord
That has no thought
Of separation—
Or the womb
In which it floats in.
Reflection: The light and sound has its own plan. It is my sister, my companion, my lover and the sea I swim in. My tears flow like the ego letting go of its grip and becoming tame, saddled and worthy of the ride.
©Roseroberta 11/11/2012
