Amigo, Ayugo, We'll Still Be Friends

Photo By: Henri Cartier-Bresson

I think we’d be good friends,

You and I,

The very best of friends, in fact;

Two peas in a pod,

Two falling leaves on an autumn tree,

Two stretches of thread interwoven like braided bread.

This world's full of people,

Billions, I hear,

But you and I,

We were meant to be

The very best of friends.

And if we ever fall out of touch,

If you go this way

And I go that way,

If the moon you're glowing with,

Is the sun I'm beaming at,

If your footprints are painted upside down,

And mine are on the other side etched right side up,

I’ll tug on your string and wait for you to signal back.

Yin n' Yang

Photo by: Henri Cartier-Bresson

I knew a man who rustled in his sleep

From fighting ancient wars with dark creatures

That constricted him at his knees.

He held strong sometimes,

He fell straight sometimes;

He won battles,

He lost battles,

He felt the second hand click

As time jumped into his bed

And tussled with his sheets.

He unlocked his brain to unhinge his thoughts,

And unraveled his skin to crawl out of his flesh,

But when he woke each night,

Pained with a sweat,

He knew the moon and the stars,

The sun and the clouds,

Would greet each other again,

And the days would go on,

The earth would dance circles around the clock,

And it would all come to an end.

But I also knew the woman who wiped his furrowed brow,

And traced the constellations on his face,

And swayed him gently sweet,

And sucked the poison from his dreams,

And sewed the wounds just at the seam

So as to feel him heal.

Cry Baby

Photo By: Saul Leiter

She cried sometimes.

Some days more than others,

Some days not at all.

At times her tears were thunderous;

They passed through wells miles deep

So passionately, so violently,  

The belly of the earth rumbled

And did a heated dance.

But more often than not,

They were soft,

They were gentle,

So hushed, in fact,

They silently rest beside her,

So as not to disturb her,

As she grappled with

Lions,

And

climbed mountains,

And

chased fireflies,  

And

Rummaged through picture books,

And

Marveled at future books.

She cried in colors,

Beautiful colors.

Soft palettes of

Pastel pink and  

Dusted red.

She cried,

Because

She was feeling glum,

Because

She was feeling angry,

Because

She was feeling a laughter tickling her tummy,

Because

Words simply couldn't suffice the

Movement that was rattling inside her,

That was shaking her bones,

And hugging her blood,

And tugging on

Her putty-like heart.