renewal

Home at Last

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for a thousand miles
we see the reach of
the Mighty Mississippi,
the river we bought
for pennies on the dollar,
the river of dreams
(sometimes nightmares),
the river that feeds us all
and doesn’t feed us.

after cornfield gives way
to soybean field and
amber waves of wheat,
all i can think about are the bison
who ate and fertilized
this prairie, feeding
ten thousand generations
and yet
we destroy it
with unnecessary crops
feeding cattle that could
(and would) do the same as the bison.

as night gives in to day
we cross the border
and see cows in pasture
(home at last)
a truck with a Kentucky plate
(home at last)
and hope that one day
we will release
the native grasses
and allow the prairie
to be home at last.

Varying Shades

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somehow
despite their travels on
long-sunken ships
they have nestled in amongst
those that are native

in varying shades
of the colors of God
(who you hope to meet one day),
they intertwine
their lacework leaves,
dot the sky with flowers
as bright as our imaginations,
and root out homes in
fantastical forests.

though you think that only
ugliness
breeds each time they reproduce,
for the rest of us
all we see is the beauty
that still exists in this world.

It Isn’t Enough

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it isn’t enough to be ten feet from
the door of our tent to the shore of the lake,
to paddle out into the cove side by side
for a miniature version of a date

it isn’t enough to swim with three girls
in ring-around-the-rosy circles into the night,
the campfire’s afterglow and the Milky Way
lighting their way into the warmth of their beds.

it isn’t enough to stay for one summer
because it could never capture our midnight swim,
our skinny-dipped rekindling after a week’s absence,
the fact that we haven’t lived,
we have never lived,
until the deep-down,
sparkling starlit beauty
of this moment in Kentucky.

Follow the Pavement Black

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after five and a half years of bodily sacrifice
i have taken a bite out of a different slice
strange it is to follow the pavement black
but this is the only way to get my body back

it’s not the baby belly (though it may seem)
but about my dignity, my self esteem
for them i gave scarred skin, life, milk
and now the road beckons with its silk

i follow it wherever my legs desire
as in high school when i was on fire
it saves me just as much as it did then
reminding me how to be myself again.

Watching from a Window

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Watching from a window
Any voyeur can see your life
(the emanating love that
Masks the secretive sadness)

But i am not a voyeur, only a lonely
Lost soul (aren’t we all?) and
I can see it hidden behind this
Picture-window view (between the lines)

Because i have been inside your soul
(though currently an outcast) and still recall
The time when you and I were innocent schoolgirls,
Watching from a window how we pictured the world.

Center Stage

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or, Kentucky Sun

Spring rains leveled the grass,
lifted up the trees, and blinded our way home.
Without the familiar echo
of thunder to mar the storm,
our pedals splashed the outpouring
of warm water into every pore.

Soaked as rats upon arrival,
we stood four in a row on the porch,
mesmerized by the suddenness
of the water that washed away
the intolerable heat that had
followed us all around town
for hours, days, weeks.

By the time we’d changed clothes,
the sun returned to center stage,
upstaging the clouds’ attempt
to rule this afternoon with the
persistence of a new Hollywood legend,
and once again warm water (sweat?)
poured out from every pore.

My New Kentucky Home

/ lovizmytrio / 1 Comment

This isn’t what I expected.
I imagined intolerable heat
(and it can be)
flat, muggified air
(sometimes it is)
and having to drive 55 miles
to get anywhere decent
(sometimes i just ride the bike instead).

Yes, it is what I expected.
But I didn’t know about
the rolling country roads
(an endless bike trail),
the diversified forests with
trees as gigantic as the
skyscrapers I’m accustomed to,
rivers and lakes and streams
around every corner that bear
bath-warm water to swim in
morning, noon, and night,
bridges that span the lakes,
rivers, and streams in a
magnificent rainbow of
mile-long architectural beauty,
state parks that have no entrance
fees, free hot working showers,
even swimming pools, hotels,
and golf courses, with grounds
maintained as impeccably as
upscale resorts, humidity that
allows me to breathe easier,
pedal faster, and keep my
contacts in all day long,
and
love for my new Kentucky home.

Volcanic Magnificence

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you and I, we are the volcano that
forms the igneous rock of our earth.
you may think this volcanic eruption
produces nothing but destruction.

but then why are the highest valued
properties (our glorious creations)
always at the foot of a volcano,
closest to peaceful, pristine beaches?

the perfect combination of hot magma
and cool sea breezes (you and I)
creates nothing less than the fertile
soil that brings forth magnificence.

even as we separate (as the lava blackens),
we can look back at the hibiscus flowers,
the banyan trees, the plants you’ll see nowhere else,
and know our creations will always connect us.

Thirst

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The part I need to leave behind
is small
but still rattles around in my heart
like a bottle of water on the floor of the car,
always gurgling, bumping up against
the seats, the door
with every sharp turn
or rapid stop, mystifying me
with my inability to find it at traffic lights.

But I will.
Find it, I mean, and pick it up,
spin the top off,
gulp down the remnants of H2O
that have been waiting years
to enter my soul,
and throw that blasted bottle
in the recycle bin,
ready for someone else to melt it down,
remold it, and create something new.