Her tired eyes in firelight,


Speaking in broken words,

Softly, yet fearlessly,

fully, wholly,


of death, of sorrow,

of joy in the next room.

Warm words fall from her lips, her heart,

Imagery from  a bedside’s “darkest hour”

now at the doorstep,

her Beloved’s crossroad,

meridian of existence evolving in light,


In the presence of Love,

A great goddess whose

Light never seemed brighter,

Or beauty seem so radiant,

Than now, in this moment,

this inevitable moment

when she does not give up, or say good bye,

But remains steady

Despite exhaustion,

She speaks assuredly of surreal dreams,

of yesterday, today, and tomorrow,

A wild flower bending gently

in acquiescence of change,

She lovingly steps away from her fireplace

and lends a hand

in the crossing of the

threshold of time.



KKLE November 17, 2013


Too busy for

That sharp ache,

Somewhere under

This skin’s surface beating,


In some other reality.

Slow my breathing.


Too tired to think

About summer’s sunshine,


And wild grass playing

On a mountainside.

Turn my pillow over.


In the fragrance of a flower,

In the brilliance of the sun rising,

In the teasing notes of music,

Bits of beauty,

Sound-bites gnawing,

Monsters of attachment,

In the shadows of memory.


Without a word,

Or a warning,

The rain is pouring down,

Soaking the ground around me

And somewhere,

Just somewhere,

In my unknowing,

In my unwanting,

It’s okay.

KKLE November 6, 2013


Copy Rights

© Karen K.L.Espaniola and 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Karen K.L. Espaniola and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.