tell me to be strong
as I close my eyes
head down in a vice
another blinding headache
fill my chest with stones
to balance the weight
and lay me beneath the stars
for one more night
with the moon
let your words float
around my face
to kiss my eyes to sleep
one last time before you go
remind me
please
snow melts
floods recede
sun rises
moon sets
life moves
in the deepest soil
seeking light
~
la fraser March 20, 2017
I am you
in your worry
held breath
waiting to be noticed
acknowledged
cared for
loved
understood
I am you
in the turning
of a page
learning connections
storytelling
in lines and wrinkles
dug deep on your skin
I am you
in the last light of day
sunset gold
falling across your face
with a rumour
of a smile
I am you
in the howling storm
the flooding emotion
that overwhelms
the breakwall
to pool
in low painful places
where the heart still aches
I am you
in the morning
as the sun rises
where sleeps lays
still curled in the blankets
warm and secure
against nightmare shadows
I am you
~
Leigh-Anne Fraser, March 8, 2017
please
you sat across from me
after explaining all
you can do
have done
wanted to do
how you wanted to give back
help others
now that you were working
and had a home of your own
help those
who are in the same place
you were
grateful after so many years
for help
for understanding
please
accept me
you said the words
more than once
I read the worry
in the thin trickle of sweat
that fell down the side of your face
while I explained
and asked questions
we spoke then of common friends
and our love of painting
our circles
woven closer
part of the same path
in this moment
I told you I was
grateful for you
and when I said
you were already part of our family
that we needed your help
you smiled
in the most beautiful way
~
Leigh-Anne Fraser, March 7, 2017
the first row
is the hardest
set up the pattern
count from the edge
to see if the numbers work
sitting in my head
a piece waits for translation
from air into wool
needle exchange
sometimes the twist works
sometimes it does not
row after row
silent meditation
conversation
between fingers
the eyes wander mostly
to the screen, the room
to what the shadows are doing
in the corner
knowledge is not held there
in the seeing
it’s like breathing in the end
bringing a blanket
out of nothing
to lay across my lap
and grow to wrapping size
a gift of embrace
waiting to be held
by the next person
so my hands can go back
to their work
~
Leigh-Anne Fraser March 6 2017
I just wanted to try
and it felt like breathing
for the first time
after plunging into the sea
getting lost in the waves
the undertow
turning me over
lungs bursting
until finally
I find my feet again
in the ever-moving sand.
I just wanted to try
before the sun set
before the snow fell
before the ice formed
before the last leaf curled
before the river dried
before the stone rolled
I just wanted to try
~
leigh-anne fraser march 5, 2017
you carry it
so carefully
an empty bowl
across the room
as though to try
not to spill
what is inside
keep imaginary soup
from spilling over
the gold trimmed rim
until you can sit
at the table
dip your spoon
and drink the air
when the last
is drained
sit back against
the chair
arms crossed
and breathe a sigh
of relief
send it to the kitchen
to be cleaned
then tucked up
on a shelf
away from the light
waiting for
the next meal
la fraser. March 4, 2017
II
secret machines
chew glass
in corners
you spit daggers
with your eyes
in the sunshine
what happened
in the shadows
that tears
dig trenches
in your skin?
where do I begin?
secret machines
dig through
the boxes covered
in dust
begging you
to look
while
they polish
the mirror
with a sleeve
held up
to the light
what falls through?
wind passing
the woven threads
lifting a little higher
to the open window
secret machines
turn
just far enough
to remember.
~
la
March 3, 2017
I have tried, I am sure of it, to join in the madness of writing a poem a day for thirty days before. I have done the November counterpart for novel writing for 9 years. The poetry month challenge popped up on one of my newsfeeds somewhere, and now I am caught in the thin, silky tendrils of possibility.
Granted, it doesn’t start until next month. I consider this my warm up to joining in. The League of Canadian Poets have set the date for National Poetry Month is set for April, but I am feeling the pull to write now. I need to dip my feet in, sink into the deep and let whatever needs to find a voice, whatever wants to arrive to do so.
Basically, I need to get out of my own way and just write. I will do it all over again next month too probably.
I haven’t the faintest idea what will come of it. I managed two days in a row to post a poem. There is hope that more poems are lurking.
If so, they will land here.
~
la
I
secret machines
fill the space
cracks leave
torn concrete
broken ground
forgotten
gears turn
energy flows
words tumble down
cannot breathe
through the night
heavy with fear
and loathing
cannot see
through the darkness
empty rooms
and hallways
cannot be
more than who I am
to please you
secret machines
listen to
the turning
grinding the song
into dust.
~
la fraser
March 2, 2017
