photo © 2009 by Paula Dawn Lietz
by Paula Dawn Lietz
The kerosene lantern hisses your name as
Your shadow tries to smother my flame.
I need no reminders of the essence of you, but
Your scent lingers and mingles with dusk’s wet dew.
They wrap in my memory and like a closed cocoon I refuse
To open, and safe my thoughts are armoured within.
I will not believe love can be discarded and considered a
I cannot fathom how poet of lore knew of this distress and
Writ the words my fingertips caress
My emotions are dolorously tossed to the darkest depths
And then swept and borne on crosswinds high.
This thing called love, how can others feel the same?
Why do we bear this obscene obscure pain?
Bewildered I sit with my head bowed low and in my
Darkness I listen to the kerosene lantern hiss your name.
* * *
© 2009 by Paula Dawn Lietz, all rights reserved
included in the Crisis Chronicles Online Library with the poet’s permission
It took half a century, but I finally feel like I am striding into my own. I am taking pleasure in the beauty that is placed before me everyday that balances the cloudy days that occur.
Always surrounded by some form of art, a mother/artist and a father/photographer and a home/studio, I was never a willing active participant until this past year. And I now enjoy it all whether it be collages, photography, drawing or poetry. I try to live by the motto,
“Always be in the process of becoming and never just being.” And living that motto one realizes that the possibilities are endless.
My greatest master-pieces are my two fine sons.
And my greatest love is my husband.
We live in the vast splendor of the Canadian Prairie and it is here our hearts remain no matter where we travel.
Paula Dawn Lietz