Survival

Posted in arts, poetry/spoken word, spirituality on April 16, 2012 by Sultana

My heart

bruised

beats heavy

in my chest

I breathe

so shallow

I cannot

catch my breath

My eyes burn

dark

haunted

by my memory

Though I stand

still stand

still shaking

just barely

on my own two feet.

Prayer

Posted in arts, poetry/spoken word, spirituality with tags , on March 5, 2012 by Sultana

Ancient trees

reach up to touch

a darkening sky

raindrops drip

from arms

of lush moss

that drape

this cathedral

of stillness and silence.

and I remember

with the soft ground

beneath my feet

that I am

but an interloper

in this most holy

of spaces.

To Fall

Posted in arts, poetry/spoken word, random, social commentary on February 15, 2012 by Sultana

Brush

of my fingers

against yours

like an angels’

wings

alit from the

skies

skim my skin

like feathers

ever fleeting

I thought

I had touched you

but my eyes were shut

and when

they opened wide…

you

were

gone.

Debt

Posted in arts, poetry/spoken word, social commentary on January 17, 2012 by Sultana

In honor of Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.

We walk

in their shadow

blood running

through the streets

a thousand deep

of our ancestors

who paved the way

to the joy of freedom

that shines

in the horizon…

But you and I:

we are not yet there.

So we walk onward

joined hand in hand

singing with one voice

to the promised land.

The Price

Posted in arts, poetry/spoken word, social commentary on December 6, 2011 by Sultana

My feet bleed

dark red

staining the

ground I tread

When will the road end

when can I stop

with every step

the rocks cut deeper

into my soles

my heart heavy

I walk on

leaving life in my wake

shoulders square

head high

my soul is still here

I am still alive.

Tears

Posted in arts, poetry/spoken word, social commentary on November 27, 2011 by Sultana

The sea

of tears

flows from her eyes

bitter love’s

water runs

a course

down her cheek

the memory

of them

aches in sharp relief

and she wonders

if the pain of love

will ever become

love of pain.

Prism

Posted in Uncategorized with tags on November 7, 2011 by Sultana

I am glass
shattering
in your hands

Jagged shards
singing a
sharp song
as they fall
to the floor

Shot through
prisms of light
a mirror
half broken

and I wonder
if I will ever
be put
back together
again.

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