The Stories of Tears

Morgue File

i am afraid of tears
afraid that they have no end, once started

they tell forgotten stories
that i choose to ignore
until i can't any longer

their tiny detonators
disrupt rivulets long forgotten
finding their way into the wash
pushing toward the surface

destroying dams
i thought wired into place



I am feeling the loneliness of the old. I think it has to do with more pain and less sleep lately.  But today the tears started, and I don't know when they will stop.


copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015

The Subject is Pain

the morgue file

Sometimes I try to make sense of very complicated emotions in poetry. I will look at a form or see something pass out of the corner of my eye and something will make sense to be --suddenly.  I think that is what poetry is, a making sense of something universal--


For me today, the subject is pain.

i want to form fists
that cannot break
upon contact

hard surfaces
a sounding board
pain
its reaction

always clear upon impact
my question
how now
to find
a moment of float
along its current

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015

night sky

John Bauer
Riddaren Rider, 1914
Wikimedia Commons

i fell from the sky

moonlight dancing

on bits of memory

etched on junk dna

left behind

as the universe

found its rhythm.

i called out to the sun

to find its way to me

a memory imprinted

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2014

Posted for Poets United

the need to weed

wikimedai commons

Natubico

Life's changes continue to unfold 

without reference to the desires of my heart. 

Plans feel mired

 unkempt. 

I suppose i could weed a bit, 

but i like the feel of the grasses

 high up on my thigh as i wade through them--

just a bit of sun behind them.

copyright/all rights reserved

Audrey Howitt 2014

Transformation's Petals

wikimedia commons

Jef132

Bourgeon de rose sous les gelées alsaciennes

It is a year of transformation, not so much because I desire it, although I am restless by nature, but more so because it is trust upon me. And even though I have mentally prepared for much of it, I find myself reacting more than I would like--it is like dodging bullets of some kind I think. 

transformation fills the air

its motion insistent

its sound intrepid

a sense that i could do without

i suppose

i think

as it jerks my arm

waking me.

its heart, a bud really

about to unfold

the unfolding seems inevitable

and like all spent flowers,

petals will litter my floor.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2014

for dverse OLN

A Lesson in Letting Go

wikipaintings.org

William Adolphe Bouguereau

Portrait of Gabriella, 1890

This winter has been a lesson in letting go. My children move on, inhabiting their lives, finding the path they are meant to walk. I want to hold them in my arms and tell them the secrets i have learned--that life is short and that love is sweet, even when it fails, that in their time, i wish them all the joy their lives can possibly contain, so much so that it spills out and inhabits those around them. I want them to know that they hold a place inside me that no one will ever dislodge.

There is no magic in this. It is only that I love them. And the letting go means that I trust them enough to let their wings loose in the world to soar as they should.

Heart outstretched

i find the pulse of you

moving through air

a soft weave against my cheek.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2014

May it always be so

wikimedia commons

Louis Janmot

Poème de l'âme (16) : Le Vol de l’âme

in the public domain in the United States

How many ways are there to feel your soul pass through mine

I balance you on the tip of my heart sometimes 

just to see your face as I recall it when you were small

and still your sweet voice sweeps through me when I least expect it

a tumult in my eyes

brings me to my knees

I look at pictures of other children and still see you 

in your wildness

and in your strength.



may it always be so




copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2014

Thank you Beth