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Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Insult to Injury

gaping wound in me
invisible seeping blood
pain so constant seems
normal, easy to forget
this is the real reason
I have no more strength
why I cannot breathe
carrying it for so long
I don’t recall the blade
or hand, the original cut

I neglect to bandage it
no time to heal no caution
no protection in the storm
until one careless word
a strike that bites and cuts
I can’t even discern intent
awash in pain, defenseless
I curl, drenched in blood
can’t stem the flow how
can a heart bleed so much

will no one notice this
bleeding broken piece
of me spilling out?
must every one smile
and blink and nod
and keep walking past?
will you ask whether
you slipped and cut with
your sharp edged words
perhaps even apologize?

Thursday, July 23, 2009


Woke from a nightmare
Unable to find sleep
Staring back into the face
Of arrogant silent darkness

My heart pounds in my
Chest a hundred questions
Refusing to release me
Back to resting quiet peace

The tannic acid taste of
Fear fills my mouth like
Coppery pennies sucked
By a childish tongue, bitter

Can't shake this feeling of
Dread, of loss, of absence
abcess something missing
in myself, was it ever there?


I wrote this just after midnight, on my cell phone. Woke up with that irrational fear that attacks just after you've drifted to sleep and could swear that you're still awake, except for the feeling that something is coming at you through the mirror on the wall. Didn't go back to sleep for a couple of hours. I'm amazed it still reads in the light of day.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Waiting for Rain

I sat on the porch last
night for an hour watching
the lightning chase itself
across the sky.

The sticky heat clung to
me like a bed sheet
the strong storm
creeping over the
horizon toward me.

Promising rain and
coolness it lingered
long before it ever
delivered too long
as a trickle of sweat
slithered down the
back of my knee.

I watched and waited,
and longed for you.

Occasionally a breeze
would tousle the tops
of the trees, and tease
the flag on the flagpole
but it would peter out
before reaching my skin
and I'd beg in a whisper
"Come on... rain!"

The wind grew stronger
tangling my hair against
my shoulder lifting the
heat from my skin
before letting it settle
again like a blanket.

On the edge of my chair
face toward the sky
I waited impatiently
for the first cooling drops.

As the first one struck
the ground at my feet
I stepped into the yard
raising my arms
to embrace you.

Faster, harder they fell
splashing against my
skin like kisses, on my
arms, neck, cheeks, eyes.

Open mouthed I caught
them on my tongue while
the wind whispered in my
ears, your voice, your words.

I stood this way until the rain
soaked through my clothes
and drenched my skin
damp hair clinging to me
the wind making me shiver
with your delicious touch.

I watched the clouds blow
slowly past, thunder rumbling
in the distance and whispered
a request to this wind and rain
to this storm on it's way to
where you are---please carry
messages of love from me.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

My Winter Sleep

coldness of silence
without a coat
wind gusting wildly
skin stinging icy red
with every breath
my chest cries out
in agonized protest

curled into a tight ball
I shiver, shudder wait
tempted to let winter
lull me to sleep, escape
trying to convince self
it is short term, temporary
soon the sun will come

aching for the drip, drip
thaw of springtime light
and the growing warmth
of morning when I hear
the voice of truth whisper
that the ice is gone and
winter just a nightmare

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Walking Wounded

life is having
his way with me
while I tend wounds
and pray for rest
this game is no fun
hands tied this way
behind my back

my world is spinning
out of my control
I am defeated by
not a full frontal
attack I can defend
a team of snipers
at every new turn
unexpected angles

life thrusts and parries
taunts me with laughter
I am weary to the bone
Tired of waiting for
the next advance

I have no strength
to lift or hold these
weapons any longer
as this legion tramples
me an army of one

I cannot breathe
or hear the sounds
of coming rescue
I have hoped will echo
rising over the hill
they may be too late

I face these demons
life has assigned me
on my own clinging
to the hope they will
at least leave me
to rise once again
after he’s had his fun

Monday, July 6, 2009

Table for One

the table was spread
a banquet for one
the finest of china
silver tableware
sparkling in reflected light
from great candelabra
and she took her seat
her bare throat cloaked
by the finest lace
the rustle of silk
echoing in the room
above the muted strains
Chopin’s Prelude in E minor

the fork and spoon like
weapons clenched in her hands
and the first bite tasted
of salty tears, bitter herbs
the fresh earthy scent
of slow walks in the rain
picnics shared on the grass
the neighborhood dog park
with the irritating yip-yip
of a Yorkshire terrier
peppered throughout

the sauce bore hints
of the first song
first dance, first night
in a darkened room
and the slam of the door
echoing through the night
when he finally left

a course of sorrow
both sweet and pungent
she washed it down
with tannic regret
an acidic dry merlot

the sun broke the clouds
made It’s journey
toward the horizon
of the waking world
splashed through the pane
and blanketed her lap
she drew a deep breath
and with it possibility
a spoonful of delight
filled her mouth and soul
enough hope to press on
and as she pushed herself
from the banquet table
stood to make her way out
into the bright morning
the tightly twisted knot
of hate began to unwind


a course of sorrow
a spoonful of delight
a knot of hate

New Angle

the world around me
wants to tilt and
coffee cups and keys
chairs and shoes
and ideas set in stone
want to slide off
their firm foundations
want to slip into a void
of confusing questions
darkness beyond black
I cannot ignore it now
this shaking up of
all I thought I knew
I cannot curl into myself
hide inside imagination
I need a rope a lifeline
someone’s hand to hold
someone who recognizes
a bit of me in their self
sees their self in me
while the world around me
shifts and sets it all awry


you can hold a breath
you can let it out slow
exhale, oh so slowly
you can well imagine
that you have control

you can fan yourself
scrap of folded paper
swishing to and fro
a flick of your wrist
an artificial breeze

you can stand atop
the highest hill
turn your face to
the driving storm
and beat your breast

you can open your throat
pull air into your lungs
and use it to power
your passionate cries
shouting your pain aloud

yet you cannot tame it
this wild, unruly stallion
you cannot break it
as it goes galloping
over the endless earth

better to surrender yourself
throw open all your curtains
unlock and raise your windows
spread wide your arms
let down your tangled hair

embrace the feral wind
and surrender your will
to it’s untamed fury
embrace its true nature
and you will surely fly


A Cup of Words (Monday, July 6, 2009)
Prompted by the following last line:

“For now she knew what Shalimar knew: If you surrendered to the air you could ride it.” ~Toni Morrison, Song of Solomon (1977)

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Unless otherwise attributed, all content, text or image, on this site is © TaunaLen 2005-2009.
All rights reserved. Republication or redistribution is prohibited without prior written consent.

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