lei fraser

I

I fell into the silence
walking through long shadows
between the trees
turned against the light
I didn’t ask the sun
in passing
if he knew me
did he recognize the curve
of my body
the scent of my hair
somehow
it no longer mattered
if it ever did
I fell into shadows
walking
long lines made
by trees standing on the hill
blinking at the blue sky
each step lost
in deep moss and muddy trail
I fell into the river’s song
the breathing of trees
and winding path
three deer met
unexpected hello
a hawk watched
I returned to the beginning
leaving the fall behind
~

deep night. fingers searching.

one key at a time.

what would you say when the light is cancelled

due to high winds?

good friends, nothing.

a slide guitar in the darkness

and then silence.

you. willing to start and use my name.

just to get what you need

and then nothing. not even a thank you.

history blows in like a bellow from the deep

You cannot tell me you didn’t think of it.

in a breath, can I tell you.

I have nothing good to say.

Nothing beyond a good bye.

tire tracks in the snow.

You forgot to say when you were leaving.

Broken life, broken limbs.

a hiccup until I can breathe again.

I just want to say

while you try to string the words together

Thank you for the silence

I never noticed.

the silent street woke me
falling snow filling the space between
streetlamps and tree branches

I stared through the window
from the pillow unable to find sleep
standing on the tile at 3 am
doing dishes
seemed the best option

life weighs more in deep night
pushing down on the edges of who I am
water fills the sink
words tipping if spoken louder than whispers
delicate, imperfect balance

submerged, porcelain and stainless steel become clean
drying rack filled piece by piece
while water cools
one pan left to soak a little longer
I consider coffee at 3:15

snow contiues to fall
nothingness was what woke me
the void, the endless empty nothing
the last piece in darkness
ending. the dishes are clean

~

you offer only silence
in this waking memory
words would drip off my fingertips
in bloody rivulets from an open wound
but no more

like winged skeletons
words strike the mirror
pressed and willing in the bare light
not even the mirror cracks
can cut through the callus

hold my hand through this nightless revery
cast the shadows in the doorway
remind me please
the sky blushes pink at morning coming
wide empty fields at the highway turn

tomorrow

~

leigh-anne fraser
2016

In the space that time allows
forgiveness
In the cracks that leaving makes
mending
In the song that morning brings
hope
~

Oct 2015

lean against the light,

eyes closed, not to block but to listen.

I walked around the broken sticks and torn clothing; tiptoed through broken glass and shredded dreams.

breathing hurt. At least until the sun burst through and flooded the room.

what if it is all just weather?

the storms, the heavy clouds, the sunburst mornings, the frost and falling snow?

what if…

in the stillness, in between this breath, the next and the next, I let go. no fixing the past, or knowing the future, just being

here

I have railed against it. Spitting and chewing the fear and sadness.

I have bent low and pleaded.

I have scraped against the shell of skin containing me

and nothing changed

breathing in

breathing out

still breathing

while the monkeys chattered on in my ear

lean into the light while it shines

then let the rain fall over to drench this body

until the wind can let it dry before beginning once again

a thread to pull
taunt against the shoulder
pinched between fingernails
please let go
a little voice whispers
turn around and let this happen
a pull
the knot tighter
roll on the finger tip
thread on thread
until the knot becomes loops
falling away
to a breath
before nothing

a thread to pull
squeeze the heart
to breaking

a thread to pull
life unravelled

a thread
to
pull
~

I write in long folds of night

Words that you will not read

Etched into shadowlines of early morning

Touched only by flickering tongues of candle light

What couldn’t wait

Until after sleep’s stolen hours?

What could not wait…

~

August 2015

I am in the process of going through an old portfolio and I found a poem I wrote five years ago…. I was going to delete it, but decided to tuck it away here. Maybe one day I will be brave and bring both the music and lyrics together, just not today.

On a September morning
I wake up and you are gone
The house is empty still, without you
But it’s not in me to hold on

Oh my dear, the wind is whispering your name
Calling you out to the wide open roads again

Across the golden fields
Through the mountains
To the sea
Under the clear blue sky
Will you remember me?

Every time I think of your goodbye
It still brings tears to my eyes
But I am letting you go
Because I know
I know

Oh my dear, the wind is whispering your name
Calling you out to the wide open roads again

Across the golden fields
Through the mountains
To the sea
Under the clear blue sky
Will you remember me?

I’m praying that you don’t
Get lost along the way…
If you do, my love…
If the sun fades away

May you always find a place to rest
At the end of your day

Oh my dear
The wind is whispering your name
Calling you out
To the wide open roads again

Across the golden fields
Through the mountains
To the sea

Only one thing that I ask
As you go on your way

Always remember me
Always remember me

September 2,2010

©Leigh-Anne Fraser

Today, I lost the light
following last rays through branches and leaves
in the evening
now deep night and I sit
listening to crickets sing
in small roaring voices to the darkness
trees mostly silent in their watching

I can no longer see
in the room or through the window
even by lamplight or candle
where it is my feet should go
one in front of the other
knees to wooden floor
forehead down
blind to what I must do
what I must choose

I slip into this moment
naked, alone
consume me shadows
I invite them to hold me
until there is nothing left

In the solitude, this stillness
I breathe and wait.

shadows press, unruly and too eager
to eat my failures, my loss, my grief
I am too empty to stop them
my mind and heart stripped
laid bare

go, I breathe,
take what is left
this life falls off my fingertips
out of my hand
out of me
I am lost
the tiniest voice cries
I do not stop it from roaring
or stop the painful flow
drain me of the past
let the husk dry
to the brittle dust
it is meant to be
for morning to come
and sweep it away

I breathe
and let the questions
chase themselves
until sunrise.
~