I'm the Person Who Loves You

I've picked you up and brought you down
and patted you on the back
I've made you run till you're out of breath
and ignored you when you were sad.

No! I'm not your friend.
I'm the person who loves you.

You cannot shelter in my arms
or suck my teat or call my name.
I cannot even comfort you
by holding you or scolding you.

No! I'm not your mother.
I'm the person who loves you.

I have no name, no face, no body.
You cannot touch my hair or hold my hand.
I stir your heart and awaken your soul.

No! I'm not your lover.
I'm the person who loves you

. . . in the dream.

Twirling Like Dervishes

There's a huge gaping hole
at the core of my being
There's a parched crust of land
where flowers once bloomed
There's an empty space
which has never been emptier
in the bed of my heart
where you once slept.

And the bubbling underground
spring of my love
which had somehow found its way to you
now lies hopelessly buried deep within me
struggling to see the light once again.

I loved your laughter
it filled my being.
I loved your touch
It made me feel whole.
I loved your scent
and the mist in your eyes.
But what I loved most of all
was the wild exotic dance
my heart did
when we were together
twirling like dervishes
on the head of a pin.

Tapestry

What fortune mine
I feel so blessed!
There's a fire in the stove
and wood on the pile
There's fruit in my garden
and the hens are laying
There's water in my well
milk in the fridge
bread in the oven
and love in my bed
There's mail in the mailbox
and a dog at my feet
There are lilacs and roses
and lilies of the valley,
and big redwood trees
to remind me of my mortality
There's an ocean out there
that I see every day
with new eyes
as it changes with the tides
There are threads linked to dear ones
who have come from my seed
as beautiful as any poem I've written
And it all comes together
like a great big tapestry
of wonder and awe
and most of all of love.

THE PIT

Without stars
the sky is a pit of black tar
and the earth is suspended
in the void


Without the sun
flowers wilt
the skin mildews
and children cry.


Without the rain
rivers dry up
tongues parch
and the buffalo roll in dry mud.


Without fire
the hearth is cold
rubbing hands
over empty ash cans


Without love
neither fire nor rain,
neither sun nor stars
can fill the void
in the human heart.



Jay Frankston

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