“There are as many nights as days, and the one is just as long as the other in the year’s course. Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word ‘happy’ would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness.” – Carl Gustav Jung
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Take me to the quiet place in your mind
The one near the winter riverside, sitting on the snowy grass
The trees, they’ve always spoken to me
Even when they’re naked and sleeping
I can’t get away from the noise, the persistent stimulation
So, take me to that quiet place, the one in your mind
We’re far from our roots, the ancestral blood-ground
In your mind, the ground is a living being
When I press my hand to it, it melds, touches me
In that quiet place, the one in your mind
The sun is blocked by blue-cotton clouds
The silence is total, like a warm blanket
The quiet place is so still and peaceful
Each new year is a gateway
Transformation takes place
Among broken angels lying face down
In gutters and cracked sidewalks
Misty rain falls in city mornings
The angels sing, sigh sweetly
Not entering this gateway neatly
I am overcome, completely
With an urge for annihilation
Winter is a time for healing.
Cold, gray mornings and a pallid moon hangs in the sky.
Bundled up to protect my heart.
My heart is a fireplace, radiating from the center of my chest.
My lover comes close, we warm ourselves.
Winter is a time for healing.
Birds migrate south, leaving us to think of what we’ve done and how we can make the world a better place.
We take inventory of our souls.
Nature retreats, but it’s only regenerating.
Without winter, there’s no spring or summer.
We snuggle into the season with our lovers, and I clasp my rosary as I pray to the God I want so desperately to believe in.
My lover chisels away rough edges
Around the center of my heart
But sharpness still remains
I cannot contain darkness sometimes
Lying on concrete in the cold dawn
There’s a man standing above me
I reach for the rosary he carries
He offers salvation in a kind way
Not like the charismatic preachers
I used to know in traveling days
He tells me, softly, that Jesus
Turns his back on no one, including
Pimps and hustlers with their
Scarred faces and crooked teeth
“He who marvels at the beauty of the world in summer will find equal cause for wonder and admiration in winter… In winter the stars seem to have rekindled their fires, the moon achieves a fuller triumph, and the heavens wear a look of a more exalted simplicity.” – John Burroughs
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You called me over the airwaves
I had nothing to reply
Golden light bathed my face
Amid soft winter wind like
Time frozen in the seasonal cycle
I heard your sweet voice call,
But I could not answer
I needed my solitude
Don’t we all need time alone
To regenerate the parts of ourselves
Crowded out by madness?
(Photo by Spurwing Agency on Unsplash)
The smell of your fragrance ignites me
Pulls me closer to your secret self
Those inner energies you keep
From the eyes of the visible world
The energy swirls around inside you
It has me locked in an ecstatic trance
Come, take my weather-beaten hands
And let me have this final dance
We’ll dance for the moon and stars
We’ll kiss under rays of light
We’ll dance and hide our scars
We’ll agree to never take flight
From each other, you’re like no other
I’ve ever seen or been with
The problem with sorting out
These probabilities is that
I’ve excluded serendipity
Sometimes, there’s no way
To explain the random chance
Of meeting long-lost loves
Crowded together on street corners
Merging of dark colors
Sleepwalking on wintry road
Dead trees and dead leaves
Gray and blackness of my dreams
Destination is unknown
