A Desert Mirage

I let it happen
I ran to it; I stayed.

A desert mirage –
distorted those years.

concealing the tears of my heart
within the monsoon.

The locusts laughed
full of chat:

the years of fear:
it was the song of the sirens.

now: broken down and stuck,
in the hell of my own hallelujah

there is nothing in me, that moves,
but the desert calls all its babies:

with the softness of a mother’s touch
and a knowing forgiveness

of everything in between.

L.J.
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I see it in your eyes, he said,
suspiciously, I glanced –
perhaps a piece of my soul slipped out?

In my head, under the Eiffel tower
Parisian lights polluted the Seine river
reflecting the lovers here before;

blinding our histories – fresh air accosted
every sense, the limited space between our bodies
grew hope, love fragrant in the night air.

-L.J. Lenehan

Elephant Girl

My heart, the elephant
of my fate, broken and painful
stumbling through this journey,

without a herd,
without compassion,
without a lover,

I walk through hot coals laid for me
by you, singing my skin, you stare,
until I burn, you turn and go.

But I am the strength
I need in your aftermath
to rise again.

-L.J. Lenehan

For the First Time

On my path, it rains,
my dry skin moisturized.

For the first time, I stop,
observing the bend up the way,

inhaling the fragrant orchard bloom
I try to understand, how I never noticed

the bloom of thistles, water lilies,
dog rose, blue bells, dragonflies.

My steps are overwhelmed
by the need not to move, conflicted

by what lies up ahead, predators in between
lie each side in wait, to take:

my limbs, my children, my life.
I shake with the weight of my little chest

that holds within it a golden soul,
ready to shine.

-L.J. Lenehan-

perseverance

In the early hours of night you walked in my room,
rope in hand, ‘ready’, you said, ‘gonna finish the job
thirteen years living as though you are dead’ he said.
 
Everything I never felt, all at once, an orgasm of pain
every nerve exploded in a micro vision of the pain
you caused, the years you stole, the heart you stopped.

-L.J. Lenehan

On the blooming daffodils of April,
rain chaotically falls,
each drop, hesitantly anticipated
like the breath of a dying man,
failing hearts identify,
with the disorganization of spring,
what luxury:
a summer that understands sun,
a chat with one’s forsaken father ,
a permanent autumn,
a memory of childhood dreams,
a winter that only snows for show,
a future without impending death.

-L.J. Lenehan-
daffodils