Air

The air we breathe. So close we are to the one and yet the immensity of our confusion, what we think is at stake versus what is really at stake… the human heart, the human soul, the inability of the human spirit to be free. To be emboldened suddenly by the air around us, to forego all the things that tie us down to these cemented places and move even just an inch towards change… to run up to that someone and say “I see you,” “I acknowledge you.” But even these words are cut short sometimes.

To love is an immense thing. I give props to all those who have connected, found those who they are fated to be with. Not so easy for a poet these days? But who knows… Best of luck to the poet who does… best of luck regardless of whether your a poet or not. We all have love afterall. The ideal is that we project and the others get to read. So when you make your mark upon the sky, stand out and make your love legible!

to place the crown of your
thoughts upon my head–
the regality, the honor,
the red carpet velour
in all its glory

but I am square inside
anxious all over
like a cow
right before the slaughter
for to surrender what is real
and what is true
hovers
and what would it mean for it
to be plucked in the air
and restrained,
pulled, dissected and
microscopically analyzed–
my heart is an alien,
a creature from afar
and I have always watched you
from beyond a galaxy
behind shooting stars–
never so near as to thread
the proximity of your hair
whose crown I shall bow before
over and over
if it means to be this close,
close around you as air…

-mr gahon 1/12/14

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About mr gahon

poet... writer... culinarian... i like to work with food that appeals to the senses, write words that taste even better View all posts by mr gahon

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