One Word


 

parting, and not knowing.

drowning in wanting, needing,

and not having.

in the 11th hour

one word

could keep you going

 

one word

 

heard whispering from internal workings

of the Universe,

in tongue, in social media,

threading the air like music

on a Sunday morn

from street

to corner grocery store,

unexpected movement,

speaking to be heard

through the least of these

mouths of the poor,

cardboard desolate,

pavement lonely;

 

thick calloused worker hands

tenderly counting out dollar bills,

each symbolizing time and hard labor

away from doe-eyed children

clinging to grocery carts

longing for big corporation candy,

wanting, and yet not having

this land of the free

does not diminish want and need.

 

did you find everything you were looking for

I find myself saying

to a white sleeveless preacher man

Soft-drawled, and crucifix tattoo’d

who beamed cherub-like and replied

“I am blessed with Jesus’ blood And more.”

His pensive wife, tired from worry by his side

 

to which an elder black man smiled

and chimed across the aisle

“Aren’t you gonna ask me how I am?”

grinning with a glint in his eye

a plaid hat and walking stick

yet still walking out with buoyant stride,

thread-bare pockets and

a loaf of white bread cradled in his arms

and a pocketful of change to spare

throwing a word Into the air

for all to hear

 

“Blessed”

 

and I react with surprise

recognizing wisdom

whispered from universal wells

of wanting, and longing,

and knowing

that whatever I have is enough

and with a desperate nod,

breathe out

 

one word.

Yes.

 

Karen K.L. Espaniola               September 15, 2015

falling


dog crap dries in the sun

in this place

this spinning place

gathering uncertainty in my arms

arms of needing

and not having

of stumbling

and crying

in dry laundry

wondering if fall is coming

alone in its coolness

color falling from trees

and needing

to be numb

of her movement

falling from my chest

falling from my eyes

her sound of blue skies

and crisp air

and of kicking this dog crap

high and wide

and away

and falling.

 

 

10 minutes from home


In my bones and in the way my blood flows

Deep heat waiting

Calling me in

From the cold

Years, months, days

Dissolve on my lips

10 minutes from home

Words don’t come out

And the radio screams into the night

Love songs of yesterday

Once again pushed away

Into that growing silence

Wanting, waiting, needing

To be explained

Another day.

Poetry

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© Karen K.L.Espaniola and hinarising.com. 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 hinarising.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.