Saturday, March 23, 2013

Dream Walk

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Tell me
did I walk
into that dream
last night . . .
or did
that dream walk
into me?

Like hard rain it pounded
at my window glass
ready to shatter all
that I believe my life to be.

I fight
trying to hold onto
my cells and my skin
even though these bones
are beginning to wane
and settle into a soft
comfortable clump.

What will become of me
when I can no longer see
beyond this shell I knew
so well as Me?
What will become of
those dreams I thought
were mine?

Joanne Cucinello  ©  2013

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Nose Dives

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I keep trying to understand
how and when the process of human
transformation begins to take a nose dive
for some.

How does a human being turn into a Monster?
When does that sweet quiet child suddenly
begin hurting animals, just like that?
Is it really possible to go unnoticed,
or is no one paying attention?

We hear about it every day.
The News reports another psychopath
has tortured his victim and we hear the interviews
of family and neighbors
citing he was just a quiet guy, who kept to himself.

It makes me wonder . . .
Is no one paying attention?

Is there some point in that downward spiral
when time can be suspended long enough
for an antidote to be given?
Could unconditional love be that antidote?

Is there love enough to erase the darkness
and stains of the past, or must the Monster stay
locked and chained in his Cave forever?

Joanne Cucinello  


Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Will You find Me?

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Oh Lord, my soul is thirsty!
How do I live in this world?
How can I slice through fog so dense
and find that kernel of light and
truth you've promised?

I have sifted the sand around my feet
a thousand times, but it is hot and dry
and nowhere can I find that
drop of gold that floated in
my Mother's womb beside me.

Sometimes in my dreams
I can almost touch it
in a baby's smile or in a song
that has always stirred my soul
and then I wake, no longer in that grace.

What shall I do, while in my heart
there lives such fire?
Will I burn away to ashes and spend
eternity in some forgotten urn
or will you find my drop of gold,
through all this chaos and bring me home?

Joanne Cucinello    ©  2013

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