Sunday, August 31, 2014

Gesture (Meghan)


I know the strand of darker hair
that falls in front of my ear,
the one you noticed when I
leaned into your willing chest.
Your gentle fingers slowly tucked
and smoothed, then raked a row from
temple to nape.  I couldn’t see your eyes,
but I felt them seeing golden, flax, and sand
in trinity and bending to your will.
I felt you seeing fingers and hair
but maybe also a woman and the colors
of her soul as they look to you now,
the meta-cognition that they’re changing
every instant, the momentary question
what does she feel about my fingers in her hair
or the words I haven’t said but may have thought?
I felt you seeing the painted husk of me, but tender all the same.
My sigh might have been a gasp,
an unbelieving wish
to remember.


  1. Traveling a path in the woods of the mind;
    A forest of petrified memories.
    No need to gaze upon the dead trees
    Seen so many times before.
    Sighs cover the sound of footsteps.
    On a patch of soil rests a dying leaf;
    Valiantly struggling in a deadened space.
    Listen closely to the silent scream;
    This leaf has a story to share.
    A seed which dreamed of a mighty oak
    Loosely planted within the soul.
    Roots of hope began to take to hold
    As the stem dared to make its ascent
    Beyond the doubtful mind, reaching the door of heaven;
    Carrying memories of a lifetime upon its branches.
    Sprawling across the ocean of time,
    Nourished by the seven virtues.
    Until the lumberjack appeared
    With axe in hand; severing the dream.
    Cries and pleas went unanswered.
    A single leaf prevails.
    The dream coursing through collapsing veins.
    Fighting to remain...
    To not be forgotten by the very soul who planted it.

  2. Thanks for reading. In what ways do you see your poem and "gesture" in conversation? And do I know you?

  3. What does it mean to know someone?
    The phenomenon of understanding another soul.
    Strangers in passing,
    Yet connected through shared experience.
    Conjectures formulated and applied.
    Let us test the theories and compare results.
    Full disclosure from one to another;
    Al-Haytham would be proud.
    But I wonder if he related to people?
    Science doesn't have the personal touch.
    How do we relate?
    Perhaps we don't.
    Therein lies the intrigue.
    The moments of one caressing your hair;
    Reaching past the follicles while gazing into your mind.
    The single leaf which remains once its home is destroyed.
    Why does it still fight?
    Mother nature raised her children well.
    The correlation between a thought and memory.
    But who is doing what?
    Subconscious visions rarely makes sense when written down
    Except to the one who owns them.
    Do you know I know you?
    Our answers are always one-sided.
    Shades of grey ignored until we are on the stand.
    Then, the grey takes center stage.
    Dancing in the realm of uncertainty.
    One cannot know what they don't understand.
    Yet one cannot know the story of a closed book.