ISSN 2371-350X

Poetry

Kitty Green

 

By

Beate Sigriddaughter

 

 

Silence

 

 

On the bus to Hermit’s Rest, my forehead

pressed into the window, I watched the light

foreshadowing the sun. And then it rose,

brilliant. I exclaimed, “there’s the sun.”

 

Not having a companion, I addressed the world

at large, a small world, mind you. I admit

I claimed attention for being excited

by the vast beauty of the world.

 

The sun kept rising. It lit up the river

down below, the blushing canyon walls.

 

Two seats in front of me a handsome man

with Slavic features and a silent woman

beside him turned and gave me a look

of utter contempt.

 

The sun kept moving higher. The river

shimmered green below.

 

It felt like a huge claw around my heart.

It wouldn’t let go despite the magic

all around. I swore to be silent forever

and let all beauty be a secret

from now on between the sun and me.

 

It was a vow I will not keep.

Already I am asking. Why? And what

have you done with my exuberance

and with my tenderness? Was it

of any use to you to take it like that?

 

I want to climb, indifferent like sun

and water, past unnecessary contempt.

 

When I am alone, I am not ugly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maybe Today

 

 

Our dreams shiver

under a blanket of winter.

I keep wondering: when

will you remember how lovely

I am? I think of the princess and

her golden road. I even tell you

I am sad because

nobody has ever loved me

like I love you. You hand me

a shawl of comfort: how you do

love me, just not like that.

 

So spring will come again, if not

for us, at least for others. I dream

a memory of water on parched land.

 

I want to run the same path

each day, you want to explore

a different path. I want to hold

the same lover each day.

I wonder about you.

 

I want to learn from you. If

you don’t get what you want

one day, you simply wait a day

or two and ask again.

You never know. Maybe today

will be different.

 

Maybe today I’ll find the ladder

that will hold us

together.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Beate Sigriddaughter

Beate Sigriddaughter lives and writes in New Mexico, the Land of Enchantment, USA. Her work has received four Pushcart Prize nominations and won four poetry awards. In 2015 ELJ Publications published her novel, Audrey: A Book of Love.

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One Response to “Poetry”

  1. I exclaimed, “there’s the sun.”

    Beate, you continually take my breath away.

    xxxx Luv u

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