voice

voice can take the shallow colours of a city suburb
and be erected as a statue to some nameless discomfiture
beneath the indifference of pigeons streaked in off-white
while crowds of stupor drag a haste to get nowhere
by lackluster yet frantic hands.

it can stand in a corner of harangued greenery
in a much paler shade than its self-postulated
sprouts of pansophy jutting with the vehemence
of profuse debris – stifling blooms of growth
- in all directions of a fruitless time.

voice can be a lover, a gasp, a whispered solstice
to a rippling skin; and be the true flesh and blood
of surging revelation, tasted on a shore that sprawls
further, warmer and with a deeper soul than all desires
and all dreams wrapped in the waves and forms of mermaids
ready for Poseidon and his embrace of sea.

a punch, a crimson welt, a wide-eyed pain
across a face that offers the other cheek
but even burning, never turns away; a silhouette
that gathers fragments in a corner and a mirror
returning reflections of absence in a kaleidoscope
of uneven cracks within the frame.

and voice can be the entire spring beyond the window
the scents beyond the petals to unfurl; it can be the wholeness
of a hallowed garden, complete with clear fountains
where all thirsts, all blank pages perch and are sated
after crumpled songs and searching flights across
the mottled vastness of winds and skies within each day.

lips that merge, with moistened purity of breath
poems with no end; those rhymes found when
silence is the only genuine sense and essence
of all phrases lost, blissfully lost, somewhere
between the infinite - beginning - and the kiss.

voice; so seldom the perfectly attuned articulation
of the universe beyond all boundaries of silence…
So often the chaos; and sometimes redemption
delivered speechless, with a smile that heeds
in humble reverence, the very first, sublime wail
of a newborn child.

© 2006 Alexandra* ~ OneLight*®