Rogue Homilies by Deidre Price

a study of life that smacks of the divine

“Beams” by Deidre Price // 2016 Poem-a-Day Challenge

Beams

 

My outdoorsy husband’s iPhone charts the stars.

He holds it to the sky, and an app plays

dot to dot with fire suspended in spaces

he’s never been.

 

He dreams of Nashville evenings,

classifies his days as though they are the fine woods

he turns into better things.

 

We want to turn into better things.

 

I dreamed of New York before the children crept

into me. Now every inch of my home is a crawl space

as colored plastic works on my sanity, diligently

as though it will be paid.

 

My days are floors and counters.

I identify stains and know not just that it is urine

but also whose.

 

We sing old songs to fill the air that fills

the rooms between other people’s dreams–

a violin among the dance shoes,

caped costumes and batarangs, 

tea at noon for twelve puppies and an octopus. 

 

The skies come to me these days.

 

As sure as my husband’s astrophysics,

my own sun and moon come bedside, gifts in tow at 6 a.m.–

Lego heroes in need of repair from their long night of sleep,

a sushi backpack full of marbles, missing jewelry, and silverware,

carried in with a blanket, blue as our Florida sky and covered

in white circles our smallest one calls “moons.”

 

We realize new dreams,

beaming at us, always whole.

evangelinecounter

April 1

Today’s prompt is “What kind of moonlight comes through your window, covers your lawn or glistens over the last of the snow?”

Share your moonlight poem in the comments, and join us tomorrow for another! 

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1 Comment

  1. Victoria Davis

    April 3, 2016 at 2:22 am

    From a slit in the curtains
    The silver beams in
    Softly illuminating what is otherwise black

    Brining with it a glimpse of clarity
    to an otherwise noisy unseen

    For over there I see my love
    But I feel pain

    Lips that have broken bones
    Eyes that have seen another
    A moving chest that encloses a conflicted heart

    What can be done?
    But to stare
    To stare and to feel
    To feel and to know
    To know and to see
    That the silver reveals that the golden era is dead

    The darkness that all try to conceal
    Can turn the dreams of a girl into a nightmare of a woman

    But, there is a realization to be had
    In the silver there is no more the unseen
    Dark cannot hide in the light

    Light burns
    But controlled burning clears
    heals
    It removes the tangled vines that suffocate
    Leaving way for two souls
    Two hearts
    And one God with a plan

    The pain becomes compassion
    The hurt is now knowledge
    The pieces become a mosaic of life
    A picture not of the perfection
    But rather the broken pieces
    Pieced into something authentic

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