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