The brightest stars in that night sky detailed Orion
Who regained his sight after being blinded
Delivered not only from the dark
But into the full color of days
Take me to that someplace else
Besides the boulders that surround the sea
Where wildflowers grow around the stones
And golden pollen is released on a breeze
Where the presence is as solid
As free
Direct my steps to that place
Where I can sit when I am tired
While I smell the fragrances in the wind
Where I can walk beside you
With my feet in the sand
Where cold water laps
Leading us
Toward a fire
Waiting to be
It’s so much work
To keep the color at bay
To erase the blues of a Caribbean ocean
To ignore the warmth and wonder of a tropical son
Why would I try –
But to punish the gods –
Rather than celebrate
Starlight from the Heavens
About the Creator
Pamela Pine
Pamela J Pine is an international public health specialist, professor, presenter, artist, and writer. She has worked in numerous areas (e.g., HIV/AIDS, leprosy, child sexual abuse) throughout the world, giving her an unusual perspective.
Keep reading
More stories from Pamela Pine and writers in Poets and other communities.
An Ode to The Disorder:
Introduction: I began writing this story poem mid-decade and kept editing it, refining it, adding to it. It is a story, ultimately, of man’s more than inhumanity to wo/man – and the mess that people can make of lives. There are always reasons – upon reasons upon reasons – for behaviors, but many of them simply should not be tolerated. But, because I do ask the question about reasons, I also asked myself: Why do I want to publish this...? What I am hoping is that if this poem resonates at all with anyone who is on the receiving end of abuse, that it will underscore two things for you: 1) if you feel something, believe yourself, and, 2) that bad and mean and abusive behavior is just that - and should not be tolerated for any reason. If you can, as you can, how you can... draw your boundaries. Early. And keep them there. Get the help you need. Be strong. I have learned bunches. Hopefully, this will help someone else. So now it’s time to set her free…
By Pamela Pine4 years ago in Poets
Our Song
Evening has given way to night. Gently, I settle next to you on the comfortable, old love seat and reach for your hand. You snatch it away, again. It cuts me to the quick, but I hide the pain, understanding that the reaction is but part of your demented state. Since the accident, your presence here in our cozy home has been clouded by a haze I can't see. Nevertheless, I feel the frigidity of your expressions and it serves as an excruciating reminder of the immeasurable distance between us.
By Dana Crandell2 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.