Thursday, July 25, 2019

This morning


This morning I have no poems 

No words of wisdom

No metaphor to stretch across your sky 

my blood has no rhyme of rhythm to cradle your pu’uwai 

This morning 

All I have is the magic of a mauna 

Caught in the sight of the sun 

As we are teased by the treachery of time 

This morning

All i have is this wait


Minutes stretching across the hardening curve of my spine 

All my Words caught in the cracks of my breath

hands curling into their own heat

I have nothing here to hold you with 

And you


As constant as the summit 

With all your magic

Always Rising beside me

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