The music is in my ears
Singing songs that someone taught me
Long ago, far away.
Still relevant today.

The fear was real
So was the love.
If the opposite of love is fear
How can they both be real?

I don’t know,
But they were.
They are.
A dichotomy to be sure.

Perhaps, as someone said,
The opposite of love is not fear
It’s indifference.
Maybe.

Indifference to the pain caused.
Indifference to others feelings.
Indifference to the love given
Indifference, complete.

So let the music play.
Indifference is not my thing.
Passion will always be more pleasurable.
Love always and all ways.

Like death, a pall overcomes
Covering every thought in darkness
Every breath becomes painful.
The unknowing,
The unbelieving,
My faithlessness streams through
Curling up in strange places
Never finding home.

Daytime comes with no relief.
The sunshine only blinds,
I still chill in the warm air.
Where do I go?
What will I find?
Am I waiting?
Is the wait over?

Numbness in my limbs
Immobile,
Immovable.
There is no beginning.
There is no end.
My fingers bend
To grip some faint hope.
A diaphanous thread
Invisible to the human eye
Is all I have to hold onto.

Night closes in

Wraps me in darkness

In silence.

Alone

In the balmy night air

Stars shining overhead

The smell of the sea not far away.

Longing for a touch

For a moment

For a word

To carry me through the veil

To morning’s light.

Maybe in my dreams.

By Deborah E. Dayen

Picture from Google Images

Leaves are rustling in the breeze
Palm fronds swaying gently.
The hibiscus blooms continuously
And the bougainvillea too.
The banyan tree has roots
They criss-cross the ground like paths
Created for the zillion geckos
The run around the yard,
Up and down the trees.

It’s the stuff of dreams
Sitting here on my deck.
I wish you were here with me.
To share this peace.

The worries of the world seem smaller
The worries I have, or had,
dissipate in the shade of the banyan tree.
The breeze blows,
And it feels like unconditional love
From the Universe.
Telling me
That Yes, I dreamed the dream
Well enough
To make it come true.

I’m not done dreaming.
Under the banyan tree
And the old palm
Dreams abound.
Life is what we make it.

Come join me here,
My friend.
Under the banyan tree.
Leave winters cold
and bluster behind
If only for awhile.
There’s room here,
On the deck
In the house
In the dream.

By Deborah E. Dayen

Picture from Google Images

The night is still
As the not-quite-full waning moon
Casts it’s translucent light
Across my heart.

Where is he, tonight?
The one whose name I cannot say,
Who I’m not even sure exists.
Does he think of me?
Does he search for me
In the moonlight,
Under the stars?

Does he imagine
What it would be like
To be here?
Does he imagine,
Like me,
That passionate kiss
That grows into more?

Does he wonder
If we’ll ever find each other
In this big wide world?
Will our souls reach for each other
In the night?
Will the energies swirl
And draw us in
To each other,
At last?

I wonder,
In the still night,
under the moonlight.
No answer comes.
Alone,
Until I am not.

Love always, all ways.

By Deborah E. Dayen

Picture from Google Images

And so, they lay down their heads and rested.
They let their voices rest
They lay their arms by their sides.
They curled up in the fetal position.
They covered the earth like a rug
And their tears blended with the rising oceans.

And they rested.
And when the time came to battle again,
they were ready.
Ready with ideas.
Ready with information.
Ready with passion.
Ready with love.
Ready with light.
Ready with righteous indignation.

This time they will not be denied.
The time will come.
The darkness cannot survive
In the face of all that light.

Rest now,
Then rise up
When the time is right.
Spread your wings
Spread your light.
Spread your love.

Shine. Shine on.

Thunder on the horizon
Is telling me the story.
The lightning flashes
Sending me an alert.
“Danger ahead”
“Proceed with caution.”

And I heed the warning.
It puts fear in my heart,
a scare on my face.
Feeling very vulnerable
In the face of it’s power.

Maybe I need to hole up
In my house
Until it passes.
Until I can take a clear breath,
And see daylight again.

Still, I watch it,
Mystified, magnetized
to its power.
Unable to break my gaze
I shake, and shiver
And wish it were
The day after tomorrow.

When the thunder
And the lightning
Will be gone.
No longer a threat
To the sanctity of my mind.

I’ll just have to wait it out.