Soliloquy NaPoWriMo #1

They say our air mustn’t cross paths

on the way to our lungs.


But I have companions in this isolation –

Sometimes when I look down

I see my mother’s legs

complete with knee-knobs, and my hands

wear her fingers shaped by arthritis.


My dad is visiting

when I glance into a mirror.

There his face shadows

my own:  his nose, the shape

of his smile walking over my mouth.



And how your eyes mapped every inch

of my skin -- all over me, tiny miracles

from you are here, so alive!

That’s when I realize we need not touch

to be touched.


J. Pratt-Walter, 4/1/2020

Island

Even if you are an island,

you are never alone, for the glad seas

tumble around you.  Even when the waves

are enraged, they seek refuge

on your shore.

You are kin of the clean bold air.

The moon and sun smile down, and seabirds

sing your names round about you.

If you feel abandoned, let your lungs

take in the living sky.

Feel the holiness of your ground

molded around you, and listen for seabirds

singing your names.

J. Pratt-Walter

2/27/2019