Can You Hear Me?

Can you hear me
above the noises
of all these voices,
would you ever choose me
when you have all these choices
clamoring for your attention
freely giving their affection
Giving you love was my only intention

but the love I gave was met with rejection

I still remember clearly
the nights we danced beneath the moonlight
absorbing the waterfall,
its rushing sounds still coursing thru each vein
I will always remember dearly
the intimate talks, without speaking
the nights without sleeping
your touch on my skin forever stained

And there is this void, this place
where the only light I see is your face,
where there is a crippling darkness
if i try to erase it,

where I’m filled with emptiness

if i try to embrace it

Suspended between hell and earth
I remain
knowing every word you uttered
was spoken in vain
knowing every broken promise
was my heart broken in twain

Yet when I close my eyes to sleep each night
your memory only becomes stronger
As I drift in the comfort of your phantom sound
my dreams take me back to places no longer..

.. an open window, a gentle breeze
the salted scent of the sea wafting in
the sunrise caressing us awake
sheer white curtains billowing

Can you hear me..d08166057863cbc51d1ec477e6c23c15


It is not the pain, but the hope, that hurts..

It is not the pain, but the hope, that hurts,
I insisted, thinking I was wise;
as he plucked two twinkling stars from the sky
and placed them in my eyes

My head upon his shoulder lain
he carried me to my resting hour;
climbing the tresses of Ferdowsi’s Rudāba*
he freed me from an imprisoning tower

‘We’ve seen each other’s scars‘, he said
our imperfections seem so perfect’
As I gaze into his fathomless eyes
my heart, in soothing undulation, swept

Carried away on an emerald ocean
within the cadence of my wanting,
the deeper you dive, the less violent the waves‘,
I immerse, the current no longer daunting

First buds break through winter’s frost
ushering the blessed re-birth of spring,
his kiss, a flame, melts the ice in my soul
re-awakening my heart to blossoming.


*  Persian lore similar to the story of Rapunzel


Between a Sigh and a Scream

kiss4She was holding on to a man broken
every gesture made, every word spoken
was a desperate cry from a place so deep
that he can only reach it far in his sleep

she holds him together so the pieces don’t fly away
keeping her balance as he kneels to pray
sometimes he sees her, sometimes he doesn’t
sometimes he lives in his past, sometimes his present

she implored, she beseeched
she tried action, she tried speech
if you cannot love me, let me know
if you will not love me, let me go’

But he holds on, as if holding on for dear life
as if he is drowning and every stroke is in strife
as if she is the only thing keeping him afloat
as if she was every single word he ever wrote

and his eye remains to the shore –
someplace clear but far
it seems within reach yet
more distant than a star

katanamore and more it appears an exercise in futility
finally admitting it is beyond her ability
she drops to her knees, eyes up to the Master
trying to prevent her heart’s impending disaster

the weight is so heavy, so hard to bear
hope only comes in the form of a prayer
with hardship comes ease, promises the Beloved
but try as she might, she cannot rise above it

despairingly close to losing all hope, she implored
her tender hands bleeding from the double-edged sword
would letting go bring relief or a tortuous void?
would her heart remember the previously enjoyed?

~ epilogue:

Then one quiet night upon an angel’s wing
she heard a voice that only an angel can bring
somewhere between a sigh and a scream
somewhere within  a half-awakened dream

She watched him float above the ocean waves
his  feathered wings skimming the waters surface
catching rays of sunlight into pristine prisms
a radiant reflection of blue-green and turquoise

From the edge of clouds,  he finally spoke
and his words became a poem
singing sweetly behind smiling eyes
gracefully gliding over the ocean foam


Love Is The Release

I watched the ocean waves crashing
beneath the reaching light of the moon;
Time was suspended upon the clouds.
There was a heavy and palpable silence
that only made the roaring of the waves
so much more powerful.

I was reminded of my insignificance,
as I stood there on the shore..
but at the same time,
  assured of my importance;
as important as each star above me.

The ocean was inside of me,
and I was inside of the ocean.
The water’s ebbs and flows
kissing the shoreline ~
The advancing,
the retreating,
were reminiscent of the sways of my heart,
as they oscillated between the clinging to this world,
and the letting go.
The desire for love
and the release..

Every crash of the waves,
as it ate away at the shoreline,
further reinforced:

You cannot love with your mind.
Love cannot coexist with thought.
It will retreat

You cannot love without the learning
how  to let go;
without being willing
to let go.

You cannot love while resisting the gift of love;
and you will not always know where that gift is
or what it is
or from where it comes.

Love is the release;
it is the open hand,
always ready to receive.

Love is the bird taking flight
allowing the wind
to guide its glide..

Love is the candle
burning its wick to give light,
knowing it is extinguishing itself.
But its essence lives on.. and returns.

Love is the being here
the letting go of the past.
Even as the past revisits you.

Love is accepting the quiet moments
to soothe you,
and the harsh moments
to teach you.

is the release.

Gentle Strength


Our fingers intertwined,fingers
our souls re-joined,
our hearts spanned distance and time ~
Reminders of encounters in lives long past,
when we dwelled in the presence of the Divine.

I thought of days of sadness
… of endless, sleepless nights,
of futile attempts at climbing..
but plummeting from towering heights.

With his gentle strength, he held me,
as I laid my appeased soul against him..
My burdens released, finally at peace
I felt my spirit flow within him

I closed my eyes,
and I wept..
.. and I wept ~
as walls of resistance came crumbling down,
and in serene tranquility,
I slept..
..and I slept ~
in the middle of his ocean I gently drowned.

“Driftwood In Your Ocean”










When I am silent,
I am down in my imagination.
I am swimming,
seeing the surface of your eyes,
the sea beneath them,
the currents..

Never mistake my silence for absence.
I am driftwood in your ocean,
you flow above and below.

I seek your presence in the pause..
where the seed of a poem forms.
Such a sweet and quiet place,
your eyes.

I’ve fallen asleep to the essence of you
many evenings..
searching for what you
already hold
and offer
in a kiss.

conveyed by ~ Arthur ‘Skip’ Maselli
anthologized & edited by ~ skyblueandblack