Hold

Is it not the greatest thing,
not to be held, but to hold?
And if given enough to hold,
I might be okay not being held?
Then give me many of your own to hold,
and then hold me with your arms,
whose strength never sways,
never in storm or calm.
Is it not better, since the strength of man
can not even exceed the strength
of a newborn vole
lest you hold his arms?
I shall direct the longings of my heart toward you,
and wish and imagine them around me,
If you yet find the desire to keep me to yourself,
My heart is yours, and it shall find its way to no one else;
but I beg that you let me feel your arms encircling me-
and that the shivers that remind me no mortal will come-
you'd let them earthquake out of me
into the deepest earth's core.
Take my dreams,
so that the one who has been forever caught in them
will be freed to dance away
til all is forgotten and dead,
and I, I shall live and hold and die.

Unfolding

Sheathed in emerald shining cone

But peeking through to gaze

Upon the glittered, folding hues

Cloaked by morning's haze

Birthed from bitterness to doubt

Disquieted soul be shaken

Make ready, let quietus come

To some, and let others awaken.

Then lilting phrase arose to flight

And cast it's congenial spell

Upon each wretched, dismal bud

To witness each one swell

Their shawls removed and scattered

They unfold to hail the breeze

Their bright hearts on a rude display

Vulnerable just to please

And yet they sleep in fragrance

Their repose is soft and slight

Their purpose in the breath they have

Lies underneath their light.

Their moment ends in turmoil

In sweeping rains or gale

And yet their wombs will soon emerge

With fruit which will prevail