Poetry

Winter is Ending

~ Ay ~ 2 Comments

It takes thunder to remind us
This winter is ending
We do not see how the changes are coming
How the moments are going quicker behind us
Than they rise to where our eyes look for the horizon
We haven’t prepared enough
For the spring
Our lethargy kept our sight to the snow
Our hands in our pockets
Our hearts in books we fell asleep reading
Will we be ready?
When the rains end and the cold clears
When the grass decides overnight to remember itself
When the trees speak in songs instead of sleepy whispers
And our lives speed up with the energy of lightning
Brought on by thunder
Of whatever we’re not sure is coming
Of wherever the next moment will take us.

A. Ault

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Like the Light in My Hands

~ Ay ~ 1 Comment

I want to hold you like the light in my hands
Like lungs hold the pace of breathing
And a heart, the space of beating
I want to take you into my arms
The way the grasses take in the winds
That have traveled, oh, so far from the sea
And what a journey
Laden with salt from seaweed
And wishes from lonely hearts
I will watch over you like the sky.
A. Ault

Night Thoughts

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I have spoken few words in the dead of night
That haven’t haunted the morning next
Nor that haven’t succeeded in overcoming a solid mind
As mine so seldom had been,
That yet closed some hole lingering from day’s end
I have thought through centuries of moments
That only lasted a whim by what was known to others
But were wishes to whatever my heart found itself groundlessness upon
I have cried, or slept
Withered or refreshed anew
I have meditated by seconds and lost years from my life
in the attachments of my mind’s pursuits
At some times, I have prevailed
In peace, watching the light go down
In warmth, my soul lighted like a hearth by the companionship of friends
I have even sustained that peace which I once doubted would return
Though it is often fleeting, through it’s often hidden form–
My experience has known its truth.
And while in night my memory might forget,
It lays beneath, still true.

Beneath the Silk Curtain

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I collected Emily, and Audrey, and Anais
read with Camus and Maugham
replaced Heinlein on the bookshelf with Hardy
only to return to them both, side by side
as so many things now stand before me,
side by side
Here and now are so similar to when and then
And as I speak I hear all the words
I’ve never said
and all the things I’ve said before
I have not twisted, but lain prone
beneath the silk curtain, this body was healing
draped by a mind always changing
and yet still in service to this moment
There is no road that has not led back to now,
and no preparation that has been any less.

A. Ault

Heredity

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Always in awe of the trade off of Time,
I sit guard while you two sleep
Parents I can’t help but parent
In your timelessness I still watch over.
You meet modernity with enthusiasm
As I look back through old books
And write cynicism on my tombstone
Your eyes shine like the child you remember
But I fail in my fatigue to think with fondness of the past
Yet we laugh the same
Still speak our drawls in synchronized smiling
Leaving no question of my heredity.

 

A. Ault

Question of Manifesting

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If I write you as a poem
The outline of a book
A story
A novel, dare I hope–
Would that be enough to manifest you?
Would I better know your character, your language
Having brought you into reality in my own way.
My words do not work in prose
I have not yet learned to translate the rhythm
The heart
Of the only bloodline to words from my soul
And I wish you to be from my soul
Oh, book
I wish you to speak for me in a story
As so many have spoken to me
I wish to give the gift that has been given
So many times over
To help in ways that I can
If I can
If I will.
And so, I try again
In another way
In this language that is becoming
To become a language I must learn
Of story, of prose, of plot
Of an arc worthy to be read
And to be written
Through perseverance and true diligence
May I create these paths in myself, pushing further than before
Than ever
May I learn, and may I write.
To make you exist.

 

 

 

-A.Ault

Birth to Fire

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I give birth to fire
Not of dragons but of the sun
Of the energy that shutters gravity
Whipping through all shades of matter
It comes from me
My being is the impetus of burning
Breathing gives flame it’s power to propel
Power that sinks in density
Until it becomes
As we all become
Birthed in this universe of universes
Fiery and dangerous
Affecting each atom of which we accumulate
We are the rub of quantum creation
Infinity becomes us.

 

-A. Ault-

Virginia

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If I could reach back into the ages
and touch you
and place into you some amount
of the peace I have mustered
that I was armed to fight for
in a way unavailable to you then
If I could match your pulse
to mine
and through the cracks of that building wall,
bring you out of the sickness
we both know too well
–But time does not move in reverse
and I can only ask you
to stand guard with me
against this river of my own
and watch from your past vantage
that I, too, do not sink
in my swimming.

3-28-17
A.Ault

Bottega

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We spent years in the bottega
Only to paint sidewalks with chalk
The sides of trains, in the lifetimes that followed

I took you to the street
And we danced in colors
Threw back our heads at broken rules
Left marks only memories might remember

What did our masters know
But how to forget a craft
Teaching more from the secrets not hidden

We became flickers of attention
At once known, and completely forgotten
Unable to escape the creation
Etched deep in our souls.

We are each twist of this unending wheel
Our strokes becoming the magnus opus
Of Saṃsāra.