night fills with questions
no answers held
in the asking
threads left
untied
untried
through this naked
reflection
who thinks better
than the mirror
itself?
~
14.05.06
Leigh-Anne Tyson
lei fraser
imagine.create.become
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in the quiet stillness of this moment
and the next and the next,
the rush of understanding comes
– comes from where?
Small voice speaks
Quiet – you reveal the secrets
They spill out of the glass in your hand
The glass the world is held in
You turned it to the side
Tipped the balance
Quiet, you were waiting there
At the door, weren’t you
Waiting for the right moment
Hand on the latch
Like the hand tipping the glass
Waiting, waiting to ride through
With every ounce of the sea within
Pressed against it
The thunder in your ears
Didn’t bother you, did it?
Pounding rhythm of this
Swirling inner sea
You swimming forward
In translucent momentum
It was in the question that
You found the key –
The one, the million that are the same
You dared not to ask – out loud
Quiet – when the last of the waves
Finish their chaotic dance
What will be left?~
12.05.06
Leigh -AnneTysonShare this:
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one question
opened the door
let the sea waiting behind come
come tumbling through
here – I am standing in the doorway
braced against the sides
next wave
next question
pulls me through myself
water pouring in
water pouring out
knowing without knowing
there is nowhere else to be~
12.05.06
Leigh-Anne TysonShare this:
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Your words flow over me in waves
Caught in the undertow
I am there in between
Rolling thoughts and crested memories
Rising and disappearing
With my breath
I hear with the pores of my skin,
See with the tips of my fingers,
Speak with a silence only I could know
Or so I thought until now
Soft and agonizing trails left with each day
Passing and left by each wave
Fall over me, fall through me
Ripples barely seen
Still felt deeply and move me beyond
Wearing away the stone exterior
To what lays within~
12.05.06
Leigh-Anne TysonShare this:
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Tonight, somewhere
behind the low clouds
the moon is almost full again
I am open –
open to the sky,
to the cool night air
through the window,
to the moment.
tonight, somewhere
in the furthest recesses
of myself
I am closed and pushing
against
the walls
two fish swimming
in circles
Around each other
I am both coming
and going
and coming again
words broken and bleeding
unmended and unsown
heart of stone
sitting on shifting sands
touch this palm here
in the centre please
please –
for a moment until
I am gone
everything is
and you know
this love
is pure
is true
tonight, somewhere
you will find
a moment
and feel the air against
your up turned cheek
an absent kiss
from a heart
that will never be whole
again
~09.05.06
Leigh-Anne TysonShare this:
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from thunder of a butterfly’s wing, my first collection of poetry (all poems are original 2001)…
Kindred Spirits
kindred spirits meet
not by chance
but in spite of it
a candle dances brightly
in the gentle breeze
hearts skip a beat
how can this be?
it simply is..
enjoy the moment
every breath,
every last rose~
River
drawn to water
we watch, we drown
in the rapids
in the unknown maelstrom
to cleanse
to live again
life is a river –
jump in
i want to float to a quiet place
where the water eddies and swirls
in the shade of a weeping willow
whose branches lean
down to kiss the water
i want to sit at the river’s edge,
on the wooden bridge and dip my toes
in the water
when the water gets too cold
and the minnows bite like sharks,
i will stand and
walk
further
we stand on the shores
watching
we bathe in the water
to come clean
we drown
life is a river
streams, creeks, lakes
join and divide
all water flows out
to somewhere
life is a river –
jump in
we watch, we drown
we sit calmly in the water’s arms
balanced precariously
on a boat that should not float
we check for wholes, holes
in the boat
not a soul without us
another day of fishing~
Candle Light
i am idle tonight, as I watch the candle wax fold
and melt into the dish.
thoughts drift and sway, like clouds on a breeze…
still my heart from beating, while the light dances across
my fingertips.
i cannot hold this captive in my hand,
any more than I can build a rose.
instead, I let the light slip through, free to flicker,
and dip to the shadows…
eyes closed. Eyes opened. Breathe in. Breathe out.
i drink from this cup of tea, and
feel the ridges where the cracks mark its ceramic face…
heat radiates outward, as I cradle it close to me
the candle gutters, drawing shadows closer
nothing forms.
everything forms.
the pulse, I feel it, in the tips of my fingers,
and it blocks the cold hard surface
of the window.
eyes closed. Eyes opened. Breathe in. Breathe out.
i am idle tonight, as I watch, the wax fold and melt, trace the rim
of my cup with my finger and feel the
candlelight dance,
in my heart, in my soul~
Pebbles
pebbles in the ocean,
i drop them one by one.
standing on the shoreline,
across my shoulders,
i feel the sun.
move to cooler waters,
among the shining waves.
as I watch the pebbles fall away,
their shadows still remain.
floating on the water now,
i am cradled in its arms.
wash me clean, unfold my heart,
hold me close always,
fly me like a bird,
fly me home again.
with these new wings,
tears of joy stream down my face
and flow like rivers to my heart
dissolve those last few shadows
while the current pulls me in
azure sky above me
emerald valley all around
diamonds twinkle like the stars
wrapped in a crimson flower
i hear children’s laughter
and the singing of the breeze
i realize with a sudden smile
that is comes from within me
pebbles in the ocean
i have dropped them one by one
embrace the pain that lingers here
as I play through this golden light
on this, the morning of my life~
Walking
i walk while the sparrow calls
from the trees high above
leaves wave in tenuous flight,
quiet stream flows here,
careful certainty,
crystal rippling joy
stones turn in the current
gently shaped, smooth, round
i lean against an oak tree,
and watch shadows cast by the sun
eyes closed, I dream while
the stream gurgles and giggles beside me
with careful certainty
breeze whispers through the leaves
in this moment, the wind lifts me
and carries me like the wings of the sparrow
i come to rest gently on the water
i feel the currents move me
i find myself tumbling with
the stones at the bottom
rolling water’s laughter fills me,
awake, i see the sparrow, head tilted
watching me, then she is gone
i stand to walk again
along the sun-laced path~
This Day
this day, like any other slips by me
like a breeze through a screen door
a whisper roars in my ears
like a thunder of wings
i find myself standing in a gale
the windows rattle and I laugh
unmoved
whisper or roar
when the wind lays down to rest
the waters grow quiet and return to glass
to reflect the moon there
dancing a slow tango with the stars
moving through the sky until daybreak
for now, quietly laughing
i do not know the light of tomorrow
yet here, the sun still shines…~
soft petal crimson
touched by dewdrops
kissed by morning sun
in silence born
unfolding with wings
butterflies and spring breezes
fragile breathless beauty~
great blue heron
stands waiting for his meal
sudden splash
wind rushes off the water
he eats~
one drop of rain fills the river
one grain of sand builds a pearl
one empty cup overflows
listen to the thunder
of a
butterfly’s wing~
la tyson (2001)
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whatever occurs – the brass lock.
Allie turned on the light, pushing the switch with one finger. The switch snapped and light erupted from the bare bulb hanging down in the center of the room. Water stained the ceiling some time ago, leaving a mottled brown map to spread to one corner. The faded floral wallpaper peeled where the water had touched it. Piles of dust marked where the sofa once sat. Random debris from the previous owner sprawled carelessly outward. Strange, Allie thought as she stepped gingerly through the room, how the dust avoided falling outside the lines of the imaginary furniture. Tiny puffs of dust rose up as she walked to the kitchen. The wooden cupboards stood open, shelves empty. One of the doors hung precariously by one hinge over the sink. An old coffee can huddled in the corner of the top shelf. Allie made a mental note to retrieve it before she left. She continued to inspect the house, room by room. It had only been six months since Michael had died. He’d gone quickly. Everyone said it was a blessing that he did not suffer for long. Allie never understood why someone would say that in the first place. How was it a blessing to suffer at all, she often wondered.
When Allie heard the news that her brother had died, she didn’t cry, although a part of her had died with him that day. It was as though the ocean that moved inside of her suddenly dried up the moment she heard the news. He died on a Tuesday night, just after dinner time. Allie had felt it the moment he passed, not that it mattered. Michael left and Allie was left to clean up the mess. Allie started to climb the stairs to the second floor when something caught her eye. There was a strange little door that sat a few feet above the second step. The latch was worn to a shine. The key hole stared blankly back at Allie. She searched her pocket for the key ring that kept all of her brother’s keys. Allie look at them one by one, but none of the keys looked like they would fit in the tiny keyhole. She tucked the key ring back into her pocket. She turned around and looked up. There was a small lip where the wood that framed the door. Allie stood on her tip toes and reached with her fingers, searching tentatively across the top. She grunted with satisfaction. Her brother, at least, was a predictable man. She took down the little key and slid it into the lock. She turned it carefully. The well oiled lock mechanism clicked and then the door swung open easily. Allie looked in. The shelves of the little cupboard were empty. Disappointed, Allie continued to climb the stairs, leaving the door open.
The rooms on the second floor were just as bare as the first floor, except for the dust piles. Broken blinds covered the old windows. Allie wondered how her brother lived in the old house. She paused at the top of the steps again. He didn’t live, she thought, that was the problem. Allie took out her cell phone, and scrolled through her phone book. She touched the screen and held the phone up to her ear. She had a short conversation with the realtor. Allie had not found anything left behind after the movers had come in and taken what little was left of her brother’s belongings.
“Yes, tomorrow is fine. You can bring your people in to stage the house. The quicker we sell this old place, the better.” Allie said sullenly. She got the job of inspecting the house by default, Allie was the only one left who could do it. Allie and the realtor discussed some more details and then Allie put the phone back in her pocket and started down the stairs. She didn’t know the third step was broken under the carpet runner. She didn’t know until she stepped on it, and crashed into the wall. Allie bounced off the wall and into the railing. She tried desperately to grab at it to stop from falling all the way down, but she couldn’t. Allie tumbled head over heals and fell in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. She lay perfectly still, not moving in the dim light. Allie groaned finally and tried to pull herself up to sit. She rubbed her shoulder. Her head pounded. Allie touched her forehead and took her hand away to see; blood. She struggled to stand, fighting a wave of dizziness. She needed to look in the mirror to see how badly she had been hurt. Her knee buckled and Allie reached wildly for the railing again.
“Oh God” she moaned. Allie didn’t know what it was that made her look up again. Something caught her attention, cutting through the pain. The door of the little cupboard swung back and forth on its hinges. Allie saw a strange light coming through the cracks in the wood behind the shelves.
“What the hell?” Allie said. She stood up slowly and leaned against the wall of the cupboard, peering closely at the small shelves. Blood was dripping into her one eye. She pushed the back of her hand to her forehead, brushing away the growing stream. Allie pushed the middle shelf with her other hand. It gave away easily, revealing a storage space behind it. Allie realized as the wood fell away, that the light was coming from a tiny light that was hung just above the opening. It had been turned on by the opening of the second door. Tucked within the cupboard were stacks of envelopes tied in red string. Allie reached for the closest pile and pulled it out carefully. The top letter was addressed to her. Stunned, Allie reached in again and pulled out another pile and then another. Every letter was addressed to her. She didn’t recognize the handwriting. Allie’s head swam. Fighting to stay conscious, Allie braced herself against the wall and tried to pull out the last of the letters. Behind the letters were boxes. Allie wondered how much more there could be. She felt the relentless pull of darkness at her eyes, forcing her to kneel on the steps. Allie put her head down, pleading with herself. ‘Please, I need to know.” The string on the stack she was still holding suddenly broke, spilling the letters down the last steps to her feet. Allie grabbed at them frantically. She toppled once more to the base of the stairs, lost to the darkness.
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Friday evening pages
Night has just fallen
The doves sleep quietly
In the trees
Love in your embrace
~Saturday morning pages
Where the water dances
With the fountain,
Falling over itself
To reach the rim of existing
Only to plunge into the deep pool below
We sit together
Embraced by trees and trailing vine
Held still by cicada song
Waiting for the next breath
~Sunday morning pages
In the secret garden here, there’s a chance, sometimes to meet unexpected people, lone raindrops and fairies sitting serenely around bends in the garden path. A dove shooed me out of bed this morning. I tried to ignore but her coos would grow louder the longer I languished in my bed. I sat with her earlier, while steam rose up from my tea, and she told me secrets. The cardinal arrived to sit above me after the dove moved on to fill her belly. She has been flying continuously the entire length of the garden to eat at the feeder. She is tireless and always full of conversation as she passes between nibbles. Her mate comes rarely. It is just us girls here so far.
One fat raindrop fell onto my book this morning with a loud splat. It fell in the center of the page and spread out with little legs gripping the page. I had asked moments before, what should I write about this morning? It seems that this raindrop and its surprise entrance is the answer.
I think the rain will soon fall on me. I felt the shift just now, the air is heavier. Oh! Another drop fell and this one startled me. It fell with a loud thump, like the wack of a zen stick. Pay attention now. The corner of the book is soaked now by this one lone drop. Imagine if thousands suddenly fell…
~
morning displays the garden
dressed in tiny drops of rain
bright blossoms
wearing silver jewels
fern leaves bow in passing
walking along the garden path
delicate steps among the ivy and trailing vine
while the cardinals and sparrows sing~
Love,
clouds gather
and the sky darkens to a rumble
shaking the house
I am waiting for her arrival
Inspiration,
Distraction
Instead, I’m met by Silence
Who holds a mirror
To my heart
For the sky to reflect
In the smaller spaces
I am writing
In cracks between
The stones along the path
Waiting now
For the storms to pass
~Monday morning pages
Gabrielle and Samantha have named the cardinal Delilah. Every time we are in the garden, Delilah flies to greet us. Finally she brought her mate, having reassured him that we would do no harm. A red squirrel interrupted briefly by helping herself to the peanuts that we left. She chattered greetings as she darted away through the phlox and butterfly bush.
I did not sleep last night. The night was filled with fierce storms. I waited for the dove to wake me but I think she sensed I already was. In a nap earlier, a dream left me wondering. I have no words for what gift the dream gave me. Maybe they (the words) will come as the day unfolds itself.
~
Hibiscus bloom falls
Down among the river stones
Coral against grey
~la
August 11, 2009
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Winter time no more
Where does spring come within me
From my soul’s footstepShare this:
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2007 in Haiku – Four Seasons
Broken spirit fell
Heart unfolded, dark spring
Moments left undone
~Stretched by summer sun
Empty shells crushed underfoot
Hope lost in shadow~
Early autumn dreams
Rumor of a smile rose up
As red leaves fell down~
Restored by first snow
A tree stooped down to listen
Soothing the ache of loss~
Leigh-Anne Tyson
08.04.08Share this:
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Here…
Here I sit with the world
Tilted and dangling from a string
Tied to my finger, index of course,
Trailing as I walked earlier, along my own path
Into the forest:
You there, try to remember that it’s there,
Dragging behind
You let it be bashed
Against the stony path
It is caught in the thorns, torn
As you scrambled passed
To find your own place to sit
in the last patch of sun left
Clearing
Watching
And waiting
Waiting for what?
The crows sit in treetops,Screechng the mocking question:
As derisive as the waiting
For what??
WHAT DO
I yell for the sake of it:
YOU WANT – what from me?
You’ve cleared the path
Emptied the shelves,
Broken down the walls
Thrown away the excess
And everything else along with it
WHAT now do you look for –
Clambering over debris
Left to rot along the forest floor?
Ignoring the growth beneath
Young and tender sheltered
By the putrid mass above
Talking into the air so no one can respondLook here:
This bruise here and there…
Scrapes and superficial wounds
You don’t even remember how –
You silly twit – how they arrived
Lost in the clouds as always,
While the world drowned behind yo
Do you know that blade that waits you –
To cut loose the life within?
Waits as long as you seek
To emerge from its leather sheath
To breath the crisp air
Drawn against the flesh
Held a moment long enough
To reflect the sun like a sigh
Then will cut away the last threads that
Hold you
– me together
I can’t help but think of how
I have been waiting –
Waiting to come home
When this blade of truth finds me,
When the point meets me
With perfect union –
Spills my own blood, my own life
My own ideas, my own fears
My own hopes, my everything…
And yet
I sit here in false serenity
Waiting and seeking
Talking with my self still
While the world around churns
in agony:
The Truth that eats
The false promises you made yourself
The plans gone like brittle leaves in the wind
The Truth feeds itself
To grow until you can feel it
And the world falls away from your finger
You were never part of it anyway
Until all that is left is you, here.
The shadows grow longer as the sun
Slips beyond my reach
I will sleep here
Waiting for this death to reach me instead
Tomorrow I will wake the same
And yet not
In a forest I will not know any more
than I did before
Did I ever know?
In sleeping I untied the knot You had made
In waking – tied again and again
In living wanted, waited, loved
Searched, prayed, cried, laughed,
Shook, held, grew with You
Now, letting go
Undone
Live again.
To wake with the sunrise of
Another day
To fly with the wind
And where it takes me.08.08.05
Leigh TysonShare this:
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unsent letter
I pressed the pen to the paper, hesitating to draw it forward to leave a black trail behind it. What should I write, knowing that the letter itself might never see the inside of an envelope, and even if it did, I wouldn’t know where to send it.
I thought of you tonight, as the snow started to fall. I listened to the soft flakes passing by me, like the fluttering eyelash of a brief greeting against my cheek. Too romantic for your liking – too poetic and lacking of substance. Perhaps. It doesn’t matter, I do not feel tonight, in this quiet solitude, that I should worry about what you might think of what I write here. There is a freedom in knowing that your eyes will never trip over the round curves of this word or the next. Do I feel brave enough to let this inner voice loose to play here, where I never could before?
The snow is still falling against the window. I paused to pull the curtain back, touching the cool window with my finger tips. Over and over in my mind, I have asked myself what I would say if I had the chance? The flakes fall and gather at the bottom of the sill. The white reminds me of the paper, sitting idle and empty, though contained within intricate patterns rest on top of one another – a deeper mystery that cannot be seen from a distance. What should I write to fill the thousand gaps and canyons between us? Not even this ache to tell you to truth allows me to write more than this.
I love you.
10 minutes
28.01.08
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