stolen from the wind

this quiet voice heard
stolen from the wind
wanting to take it away
to wherever wind goes
when it whispers to the dark

captured in a heart
in the beat of its four chambers,
tender, throbbing
kept safe,
given blood, given life

its echo led to a hole
sand dug by a child
with plastic shovels
in plastic pails
until deep enough to climb in

the surf filled it up
one gentle wave after another
until buried into a whisper
it began to cry out
“hear me… hear me… hear me…”

now heard
this quiet voice
surrounded by others
dug up from the sand
begins to sing

as it always has
to the gulls and dolphins
to the otters and sandpipers
to the crabs and mussels
who have been here all along

In Response to a Poet’s Love Song of 1/24/17

My body now wakes up on its own at 4am
Somehow, transformed from insomniac
To discover the backside of night
And find it as pleasing as Goldilocks
Found the third bed eating the third porridge.
When I talk to the old poet in my journals
Or in files found on my computer that don’t
Remember being written, he chuckles at the
Absurdity of the idea of me waking early
To do anything other than take a piss.

My body now wakes up on its own at 4am
The acoustics of this silence are similar
Yet so very different. Waking creatures
Are more for meditations like these than
The beasts that haunt hours that aren’t stilled
Inside a heart that hears only its own beating
As it tells tales that ache with longing, with pain
That never really was felt, only misunderstood.
This depth, this texture, this darkness marks
The underside of my eyes just as well, thank you.

My body now wakes up on its own at 4am
Still needing coffee in my oldest possession
Aside from stuffed animals hidden from view:
The coffee mug bought at a convention in college.
My hand still holds the pen, a new lover from Japan,
My sensuous mouth still spills familiar treasures
That makes me fall in love all over again. I adore this.
But now, I feel a presence, like eyes glowing through
A window. I am seen. Seen, my stories take me on
Journeys I didn’t even know I wanted to go on.

A response to https://braveandrecklessblog.com/2017/01/24/poets-love-song-romantictuesday/

With additional thanks to: https://thereluctantpoetweb.wordpress.com/2017/02/16/the-backside-of-the-night/
for being inspired enough by the phrase backside of night to hopefully start a meme

and
What is the Best Time of Day to Write Poetry?
for asking the question that got the whole backside of night thing going to begin with