Beyond the Poem
This is the wounded light of winter
coming toward us from within,
and the earth moves slowly
reminding us of time.
I feel the warmth of my love
and the poem ask, “where is it snowing”?
This man behind me
separates heaven from hell,
he reminds me daily
not to judge myself.
This poem becomes
the falling leaves.
they sing softly the words of compassion,
‘without mercy for ourselves we cannot love the world’.
My heart was taken
a long time ago
by the muses of the desert and the sea,
as a child they raised me
and I lived in a world
of poets and painters.
I took my pen and my journals
and followed a tangled path of passion.
I rode the waves of summer
from spring into the sleeping winter ____
(no one could possibly understand
how beautiful our love has been.)
Written words upon words,
poems of love, passion and broken hearts.
(And always next to me stood my compass and my anchor.)
Because sometimes a poet needs to land
and to be seen by the only person who can really see you _____
beyond the poem.
Keep the Faith
There is no proof of reality beyond the observer _____
but there is always proof of loving and being loved.
© Gesso Cocteau
Thank You ____ © Santiago Carbonell
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