Vultures pick the wounds clean. Clarity comes through whispering trees. I am still, and listening. Copyright © 2018, Sheyorah Aossi Art: Stillness by Joyce Huntington.
Poet's Notes: This was written in response to a journal prompt by Pixie Lighthorse from her book, "Prayers of Honoring Grief." The question was: How can I honor what I've been through?
I wrote this in a birthday card for someone very special this weekend, and thought I'd share it, since I've noticed that Someone picking up the card and re-reading it in the following days. Apparently it is a poem, according to said person, and upon re-reading, I supposed they are right. So I asked Special … Continue reading Happy Birthday
Here is a piece I wrote about being an almost step-monster.
Your eyes are the sky with clouds toying with rain and dancing with the sun. Your blues are great lakes reflecting light and hiding the depths. The ocean plays this game before dusk, in the afternoon: she fools you into the comfort of a washed tone with sheets of silver, masking the blue that could swallow … Continue reading My Elemental
I have olive eyes, a green I never loved. I wanted viridian, or better yet: sage. I wanted light eyes, bright eyes, eyes that pierce and coax against their will. Eyes that people remember because they electrify; Such powerful beauty they are hard to look at (for long, at least). But my green isn't bright. … Continue reading Eye Contact
He is silent in his thoughts even when I ask a question; Tall in red and denim, pensive and peering through glass and structure. I get lost outside of that box of vision; When the colors reveal themselves to him and mix with his chaos; When the lights of his life keep flashing their lumens … Continue reading The Moth
As the Camp Fire continues to burn in Northern California, the San Francisco greater Bay Area is dramatically effected by Unhealthy Air Quality levels, which is effecting some of our health, especially those in sensitive groups, like myself. Many local poets are writing about this to deal with their experiences, and I am no exception. … Continue reading The Tower (a page poem)
Friends always say, "Of course!" when they promise to keep in touch, keep the friendship alive, when a new mate is found. But I know you. Your hunger is so big, you struggle often to be anything else, and it's hard to think when you're starving. I know starving. Her name is Diana, you said. … Continue reading A Blessing for The Hunters
Sometimes the jolts of pain in my guts feel like flashes of dying. Mortality and I are very close. I won't say we're friends but we respect each other. We know the power each of us has and the potential cost of playing. Lightning bolts in my capillaries and thunder in my soft tissues; A … Continue reading Dear Doulas