whispering the same
in repetition
silencing a misty cacophony

waiting
yearning
pining

to awake in the music
to dance in the echos
to shimmer in the ripples

to be alive

an orchestra in order
bows bent
backs straight
in attendance
in anticipation
in repetition

to wake up and dance and shimmer with life

for
his breath to surge
his eyes to rove
his finger to trace

to render her
tactile

She looks down, and says aloud, irritation seeping into her voice: “What kind of mess did you get yourself into? I thought we decided we’d be more careful on where and what we trip over?”

A whimper floats up as a response.

“I suppose you are just going to sit there and stare at me now, aren’t you?

The old clock ticks seconds loudly while they stare back at each other. Concern looking into guilt.

Oh alright, hush. Let me take a look?”

With a slow delicate finger she lifts an end into her palm, and peers down. The robust red that it once shone of, was now a lackluster maroon. Dark black scar streaked diagonally, a vestige from a long gone ravage. Her forefinger traces an arc over the ashen bump, next to the fresh deep crimson gorge. A lump of pale puke, unceremoniously stuck along the wall, having no route for escape.

A soiled tear makes its labored way along the ridges making a perfect circle on the gray below.

Her voice dropping down a notch, she comforts: “This is deep, sweetie. How did this happen at all? You know better than to allow this, don’t you?  It must hurt, but we’ll make it alright soon.  Just hold on okay?”

With a moist white gauze, she wipes the gash down. Firm and steady, with just enough pressure to remove the now caked mire, yet only slightly grazing the nerves below. She continues talking in an even voice, so as to distract and keep thoughts engaged.

“Do you have any idea how strong and rugged you really are? How many of these you’ve blown away with a small gesture, a wave of hand? I know I haven’t told you this often enough, but am so darned proud of you. Oh yes, remember the incident at the school, how refined you handled the situation, and the other time when you knew the sneaky culprits, but you bore it all in silence anyway. A decision you took after great thought and consideration. A composed silent dignity that only the more perceptive could realize. Honestly, that was mighty distinguished of you.”

A flush makes its appearance gradually. A smog of doubt swirling into comprehension, making way for comfort. Clear sighs bubble in succession.

“I know you think the right thing is to not fight back or attack, but c’mon sweetie, all things aside, you have got to learn to protect yourself. See, look around you, everyone’s doing it. Protecting themselves no matter the ripples it causes around. It’s ruthless even, at the complete disregard for compassion and humanity, but that’s the kind of muck we live in. Think about it as “adaptation”. We’ve been doing it for generations now, it isn’t new. Wait, you do understand what I mean by adapting, don’t you? It doesn’t mean one changes inherently, it is to react differently to a similar situation when it repeats itself.”

The wound now disinfected and naked, she picks up a wad of cotton bandage and unrolls it. The smell of antiseptic washes over them, leaving behind a squeaky clean slate in its place. A warmth now radiates through her palms, radiating a smile and a hope into it.

She continues: “You are worth it. Every bit of you. Do not ever let anyone fool you into thinking otherwise. Ever. You are a precious piece in the grand scheme of things, and you know it. It’s after all natural to occasionally let smoke get in our eyes, especially when the heart’s on fire, but the good thing about it is that, it clears as rapidly as it binds. We are survivors. We will always be, and every such event only reinforces us to stay on our path. Whatever you do, you sure aren’t turning back. Okay?”

The pulse once feeble now picks up a steady pace. The paleness rapidly disappearing into a flush healthy pink. A redness robust in its function and as a symbol of all things healthy.

Smiling: “There, you look just fine and perfect if I may say so? Remember, you are beautiful, strong and wise and very worth it. Just have faith in yourself. You and me sweetie, just you see, we’ll go a long way!”

So saying, she picked up her heart, placed it ever so gently within her tranquil chest and skipped out onto the lawn filled with yellow daffodils. A clear sign of a welcoming new Spring.

Anaphora is a repetition device where the same expression (word or words) is repeated at the beginning of two or more lines, clauses, or sentences. You can read an example written by David Lerner here and a couple more here, one by Lawrence Ferlinghetti and another by Pablo Neruda.

On reading the definition, I realized I had written an anaphora some time back, a fable: A Suitable Moment.  More on the lines of a continuous prose than a poem of course, but the technique, I imagine, remains the same.

***

Her Voice
Rippling like the stream in his
backyard, clear, soft and gushing
Mirth
In abundance and overflowing

Her Voice
Tender and Soft, like a baby’s
cheek, brimming with care
Concern
In abundance and overflowing

Her Voice
Deep and Husky, a zephyr
skirting the boughs
Seduction
In abundance and overflowing

Her Voice
Playful and Naughty, an imp
darting in and out of words
Mischief
In abundance and overflowing

Her Voice
Profound and Sincere, a sage
oracle seated within
Wisdom
In abundance and overflowing

Her Voice
Vulgar and Reckless, a fisherwoman
cussing in abandon
Anger
In abundance and overflowing

Her Voice
Trembling and Shaken, a leaf
caught in a tempest
Fright
In abundance and overflowing

Her Voice
Muted and Shocked, a cadaver
frozen mid-scream
Silence
In abundance and overflowing

***

au·bade

1. A song or instrumental composition concerning, accompanying, or evoking daybreak.
2. A poem or song of or about lovers separating at dawn.

[Origin: Late 17th century, French, from Old French albade, from Old Provençal albada, from alba, dawn, aubade, from Latin.]

***

Stay.

Stay
Just a bit longer, stay
I want to kiss you once more

The night as a witness to our desire
Hush,
Close your eyes,
Can you feel me?
Like I did just hours ago

In the silence of the darkness
Your breath as my beacon
I caress you with my fingertips

Stay
Just a bit longer
Make love to me once more

Brushing wavy tendrils away
Your stubble grazes my chin
A passion on a sway
Yet again
Your lips cradled in mine

In the crescendo of our heartbeats
Your voice as my refuge
I echo you with my eyes

Stay
Just a bit longer, stay
I want to kiss you once more

The night’s growing old
Dawn’s stealing quietly through
My spine feels a cold
Hold on, don’t let go

In the warmth of this raging amour
My dream as my anchor
I shut my eyes tight

As you must know
I wake with the dawn,
Poof!
There you go.

Stay
Just a bit longer
Make love to me once more

her eyes
they have a purpose
searing and angled

Tiger eyes.

a prey
quiet and unassuming
soft and loving
to devour

Wide toothy grin

claws sharp
throbbing jaw
shallow breaths
an attack

Target overshot

retrace
recoup
cower beneath a mask

her eyes
they have no purpose
wretched and glassy

single.
standing alone
you could tell by the way she stood.

Lonely eyes.