Joy

[adimon]

I picture you as a girl of four,
maybe five. Tongue stuck out,
writing your name with a purple crayon.
The joy of knowing,
finally-
who you are.
Carving that joy into your picture book.

Then, in a blink of an eyelash
I see you again, much older this
time, sitting at a desk. Scribbling furiously.
There is someone (a boss?) on the other side of the
desk, a man, he is speaking. I cannot hear
what he’s saying. But his mouth quacks open
and shut real quick, quicker than you can write (you're being dictated to!) But
your hands get faster, you make them get faster,
praying, begging him to finish. No joy this
time, no sister.

And now, kneeling before the stone
which bears your name, I stick out my finger.
Move it slowly over the letters one by one,
Tracing, trying to feel; trying to capture
that same joy you felt. But you are no picture
book, and you’re not coming back. I guess
what they say is true.
About life, I mean.

[adimon]

Grace. The first word that
sprung into his head as he
watched her from behind
the bookshelf, his heart
racing, his clumsy fingers
sending hardbacks falling
to get a better look. Tasted
salt on his lips. Teary eyed.

He follows her eyes out the window.
On the grass outside the library,
a boy and a girl run around;
arms waving, voices reaching above,
beyond the constraints of
dull sky and withered tree tops.
She smiles. Rests her head on her arms.
Watches, the smile never leaving her face,
now flushed. Alive.

[adimon]

I am not alone but amongst
a crowd of silence. My thoughts go
unheard, my progress unsteady.

butterflies swim with me
in the fading slipstream of

a morning already forgotten-

their journey goes unbroken,
ascending evermore- but
I fall to my knees in despair

of being me, in fear of making
the same mistakes twice,
imprisoned by the truth,

its unchanging face.

[adimon]

I think you under-estimate me. Even you
who called me under-valued-
the sweetest words ever to reach
my ears, by the way.

You think I want you to open the door
only to follow you through.
But I want you to have the world,
every last drop of joy,
to float the ocean of colour,
absorbing its essence-
the light and the dark
and the pictures of stars they paint
by night.

As for me, I need to know
your world. Like a child
at the gate of a high walled garden,
the beauty inside fascinates me.
Please let me in, for these misty windows
make our faces sad and you don't see me
waving from the outside.

So I wait,
wishing I could watch you
read these trembling words.
I'm hoping you'll warm them,
grow them in your garden-
alongside the flowers of your happiness;
and come to me so we can celebrate
this wonderful day.

Believe
in me, as I believe in you-
you can do anything in this world,
everything that makes you happy.
I know this because you showed me the way,
gave me myself-
I've found me in you. You spoke
the words in my head that tell me
who I am now, a believer in me. Someone
who knows that the world is a shell
of mystery we all have to peel
with time.

I hope this second is the way it will be-
everything beautiful for beauty forever.

Look past these diminishing eyes-
black holes that close when you look at me-
look closer, at what I want to share with you,
a force beyond words,
a faith sown in the garden where your smile sleeps,
your gift of belief,
a hope born of your beauty.

I want nothing save the chance
to have everything.

[nuit]

i feel pulls at my heartstrings when i read your words, well done adimon, well written, so much thought and emotion contained in each poetic delight

K
x