Rebellious Child

I have never met you,
and yet you own
my crushed and broken heart.

I do not know
the contours of your face,
and yet I can feel you,
you are with me,
always,
holding me close when I am hurting,
carrying the weight of my world
when I no longer can.

My mind would argue
that you don’t exist,
a figment of my imagination,
nothing more than a fairy tale.

My heart knows the truth.

You are the truth,
my love for you…

…your love for me,
it is eternal.

Though nothing I can ever do
will ever earn this love,
it is there
waiting for me to accept.

So simple
and still I refuse.

Why do I insist
on turning my back to you,
refusing to listen,
knowing the hurt that I have caused,
the scars that you carry
because of me?

I am but a rebellious child,
the cause of your tears,
I know my sins.

Forgive me.

Gray Winter

Can you still see the beauty in it?

After all that has happened,
and the time that has passed,
month after month of cold
and snow
piled so high,
muscles aching from moving
shovel after shovel
from one place to another,
socks and gloves
soaked through,
skin red from the bite
of the frigid air,
can you still see the beauty in it?

The soft and fragile snow
falling,
floating from gray winter skies
covering the old
with the new,
a fresh layer
that will sparkle in the morning sun.

Just a few weeks more
until all of this
will be nothing more
than a memory,
shovels and ice scrapers
packed away,
gloves and scarves
tucked into the corner
of our closets,
as the snow steps aside
for the gentle spring
and we will know
that we have survived
another winter.

I look out the window
at the falling snow
a thing of beauty,
still,
and try not to think of spring
so close
and yet so far away.

© Michele Markley 2011

Shades of Gray

I show you a blue sky
but cannot know
if the blue you see
is the same as for me.

This light might not shine as bright
this birdsong not sound as soft.

I give to you this piece of fruit
but is it as sweet for you?

I cannot know.

Side by side we stand
and watch the world
in a blur move past
but the story you tell
is not the same as mine.

What seems black and white
is often shades of gray
tinted by a world
we cannot know.

© Michele Markley 2011

Searching

I look in the mirror
but all I see is me.

I can’t see the person
you think I am.

Am I that person?

Is this all a lie,
the person that I thought I was?

Why can’t I see it?

Am I wrong
or are you?

Why don’t I know?

I look in the mirror
but all I see is me,
eyes full of confusion,
haunted by the pain
that rises from within.

© Michele Markley 2011

The Thaw

The crystalline frost delicately painted
over limb and fence row
no longer adorns our world
with its ethereal beauty.

Pristine mounds of snow
that once smoothed out
the sharp corners of our reality
have taken a tinge of grey,
the brown grass beneath pokes through,
disrupting what once was beauty.

Yet even this,
the slush and mud,
has a certain beauty in it.

A renewal,
the thaw,
a cleansing of the canvas
in preparation
for the next masterpiece of winter.

© Michele Markley 2010

Fallen Leaves

It surrounds me,
crisp autumn breeze,
the sweet smell of leaves in decay,
the whisper of corn stalks,
fading and ready for harvest.

My soul reaches out,
grasping for whispers of the past,
lighter days,
before life became
too heavy to carry.

Through fallen leaves,
I shuffle,
stirring them,
just to watch them fall again.

Crunching them,
just to hear them crackle.

I shuffle
shedding the weight
of my life,
as a tree shedding leaves.

A moment remembered
become once again.

© Michele Markley 2010

A Cat's Diary

The humans have left again.

I can only hope
this time it is for good.

It will take me hours
to get the stench of them off of me.

So humiliating,
to be imprisoned by such inferior beings,
begging for sustenance,
when I long for nothing more
than to prowl,
to hunt,
wreaking fear into the lives of many.

Then,
I would have the respect I deserve.

I must go.

It is time to regurgitate
on the humans' bedding again.

I can only hope,
that this time,
it will gain me my freedom.

© Michele Markley 2010

No Owner’s Manual Included

The gears are rusted,
they refuse to budge.

I gather up the leaves
that have fallen on the ground
and try to loosen the gears with them.

They don’t move,
and no wonder
who had ever heard
of loosening gears with leaves.

I look around for something to use
and find only a cat.

A very rude cat at that.

Picking up the cat
I toss it at the gears.

They release a groan and a wail
and slowly start to turn.

The cat runs howling from the room
but I know better.

He is not hurt, just insulted.

The vibration from the rusty gears
cause my head to throb.

This is not right.

If only this machine
came with an owner’s manual.

I pace the floor
trying to recall
what last was used
to free my brain
from neglect and decay.

Looking around I see
nothing but the discarded leaves
and a used cat.

Yet hiding beneath both
I find the key that I was looking for.

My words.

Gathering up the words
I toss them into the gears.

The more I add
the faster the gears turn
and I remember now
that the only thing
I really needed
were my own words.

I should probably apologize to the cat.

© Michele Markley 2010

Blue Eyes

There amongst the canvas
of green summer leaves
there are eyes peering out
eyes of brilliant blue.

It is a blue
that brings to mind
the smell of salty waves
and cool ocean breezes.

But there is no cool breeze
only the stifling heat
and those blue eyes
on green leaves
peering at me.

I shuffle a step closer
closer still
the eyes flutter
then float away
on the wing
and I wonder
what those eyes would see
if they were actual eyes.

I lift my head
and stare into the blue eyes
until I can see
the moth
no more.

© Michele Markley 2010

Hello

Hello?

Are you there?

Are you even reading this?

I suppose
it is just me
talking to myself.

Again.

I hope that you are well.

I find myself
feeling
slightly unbalanced
always talking to myself.

Or so it seems.

If you would just reply
so that I know
I’m not alone….

Hello.

© Michele Markley 2010

Nothing but Silence

There is a place,
not far from here,
where I can go
to escape,
the distractions
of life.

In the heat of summer,
when the spring rains
are just a distant memory,
the path seems more desolate,
dried grass rustling under foot,
the dust rising
small clouds,
the only clouds
I’ve seen for days.

The only voices here
are the ones I bring,
my thoughts
too loud for this place,
I release them
from their prison
until there is nothing,
but silence,
and the incessant scream of the cicada

© Michele Markley 2010

Avarice

We’re brain washed.

Blinded.

We don’t even know.

The jingling currencies
tickle our insatiable greed.

We get fatter,
and richer
and still we bemoan
that which we don’t have.

We want more, more, more.

We are but a spoiled child,
run away from home
still expecting an allowance.

We want,
we want it all
and when it isn’t given freely
we borrow and take
and borrow and take
until there is no more.

The world,
no longer fooled,
no one hears our cries.

All have turned a deaf ear to our lies.

For the people?

No.

For the dollar
the mighty mighty dollar
stained in blood
and shrinking in the wash.

Invincible we are not.

They too were great,
once.

© Michele Markley 2010

Separation

It could be a million miles,
your love,
like a lighthouse from a distant shore,
it guides me
back to you,
or paper thin walls that separate,
so thin
your heartbeat sounds like its next to me.

No matter the distance
when you are gone
I feel you
next to me
inside me.

Your heartbeat
and mine.

I breathe you.

Even when you are gone,
you are with me.

© Michele Markley 2010

In Pieces

Picking up the shattered pieces,
the jagged edges
drain the heart,
stain the ground.

I beat my chest,
scream at the clouds,
and wonder how long
will the blood flow.

How long will it take
to put me back together?

I will never be,
me,
again.

I sift through the pieces
with time they smooth
These pieces,
the pieces of my life
have changed
some are missing
some no longer belong to me.

I place each one upon the next
rebuilding
me
in pieces.

© Michele Markley 2010

The Silent Song of the Firefly

It is not the sullen strain of amphibious melody,
that draws me to the eve
to descry nature’s resplendent charms.

Nor even the whisper of gentle winds
through leaf and heavy limb
that would bewitch me
with summer’s dew laden perfume.

The radiance of the moon’s full brilliance
merely guides my feet upon this path.

I take no notice.

For this night,
my attentions are drawn to another.

It is the silent song
of the firefly
sparkling over fields below
that sets my heart aglow.

Like a siren’s verse it draws me near
mindless of the dangers
that lurk in the shadows.

For how can there be darkness,
when there is so much light.

Nothing can touch me,
when surrounded by beauty such as this.

© Michele Markley 2010

My Liberation

I teeter at the edge
staring down
at an ocean of my own fear.

Just a whisper on the wind
the stench of it
comes to me,
and with it the realization of the liberation
that is waiting just within my reach.

There is but a moment of hesitation
my heart pounding a rhythm
that could lead the feet
in a wild dance
if only there was a horn to play along.

Giving my fear
the disdain it deserves
I strip myself bare
unashamed of the flaws,
my flaws.

They don’t own me.

This is freedom,
freedom to be me
to embrace myself
and all that I am.

I will not be ashamed.

Tempest

Cold steel
rolls across the sky
billows and rumbles
fluid and angry
chasing away the sun,
all cower in its presence.

The wind screams
in horror
thrashing its way
through the fragile landscape
pouring out tears
on all that lay below.

But the Earth,
it alone does not cower.

Opening arms wide
Earth
absorbs the tears on its broad shoulders
until the tempest has past
forgiving
the temperamental sky of its tantrum.

For the Earth knows
it too has shown its wrath.

Our Song

Brushing aside the satin and lace
his rough, work-worn hands
soft against my skin
familiar
welcome.

Lips skim the surface of the skin
the salt of sweat in our kiss
as my tongue traces his lips
and down his neck.

Hearts race
the beat of drums
primal
sounding through the room
joined in chorus
by soft murmurs and moans.

This is our song.

Faster we race
climbing up
to touch the sun
until all that I know
is you
and me.

There is no more.

Slowly we fall.

Summer Concert

Over the rhythmic beat of rain drops
falling from the eaves
the rising melody
of frog song
lulls me into dreams.

With the rising sun
I wake to somber cries
of mourning doves
courting their love.

In the rustle of the trees
as the wind caresses its leaves
I hear music.

Nature serenades
each moment,
wait,
just listen.

Different Worlds

I was walking my path
my head, a wilted flower,
my roots trailing through the mud
unaware
how absorbed was I
in my own fears and failures.

Then there was a moment,
an unexpected moment,
this path that I walk
collided with yours.

Your request to walk a while with me
took me by surprise.

I hesitated,
not knowing
what this might bring,
my fear of the unknown
so large
it hovered, a dark cloud
over my path
paralyzing my steps.

Swatting away the cloud of doubt
I accepted.

Short walks
grew longer
the bark that was our armor
chipped and fell away
til our paths intertwined.

The cloud still hovers
though your light shines through
helping me to see through the dark
to understanding.

There are more worlds
than just our own
if we only open our eyes
we can see their brilliance.

It is my sincere hope
that our paths will never be far apart
though we live in different worlds.