Alma de Color

She looked out the rose-stained window and watched the rain drip Down like torrents of slippery, hot blood, And wondered when the last bit of rain Would fall, plummeting down to the ground in silent agony, Vastly alone among the thousands of comrades; She wondered most about the man she missed. And he was in the middle of the smoke and mist, Fighting for his life, his breathing labored and sweat a steady drip, Wondering how many had fallen in his company of comrades, Lying on the weeping ground, covered in their own blood, Fear tormented his soul, and so he fought in agony, Blinded by the salty mist of tears and of rain. They had been battling for days, sloshing in the rain Fighting blindly with dark shadows in the swirling mist, Their muscles groaning almost audibly with agony; Bone-chilling weather slowing their movements like a cold molasses drip, And turned cold the once hot and boiling blood That surged through the veins of the fighting comrades. But the men had not always been su...

Mist My love is vague and fleeting after rain, Like twilight he is neither day nor night, I often dream, beneath the stars have lain, In hope he might transpire upon my sight. Most oft he blurs the visage trapped behind His cloak of swirling droplets. Just as I Reach out to touch, he disappears on wind; He comes and goes upon my ling’ring sigh. On silv’ry threads he shivers, then he shines, With kiss of light from quiv’ring gentle breeze To tease and tug upon the lethal lines But won’t be caught; entrapped by none of these. To see my love, await the coming dawn, When fears and all obscurities are gone. The Silhouette When rays of sleepy sun come peek upon The stretched horizon found to east of shore, When darkness, fear, and dusk are found no more, The morning after night is hailed the dawn. My love to me is slowly taking on A shape I see I think I saw before, The vapored sunlight bright as gold does pour Around his formless face. And with fear gone, ...

The writhing worm is scared of those things new, Ling’ring at a crossroads, baffled by a call; Butterfly soars on wings of gold and blue. Possibilities shine like honeyed dew, Lurking mouths await the line to sink and fall; The writhing worm is scared of those things new. Empty wings fill with foretaste out and through, Perched on the chrysalis, she hopes to enthrall; Butterfly soars on wings of gold and blue. With fears the early bird will her pursue, Grasp her in its fearsome beak, and make her fall; The writhing worm is scared of those things new. Early morning sun, a breathtaking view, New horizons education’s flame recall; Butterfly soars on wings of gold and blue. Blind to which joys or terrors may ensue, Eager to begin, no matter what befall; The writhing worm is scared of those things new, Butterfly soars on wings of gold and blue.

She sits at the airport waiting for her flight; Butterflies have waged a war against her insides As she has never made this trip before. Iron bangles graced her wrists and vermillion stained her feet and forehead. The butterflies have been replaced by daggered hunger But the menu lists “oxtail soup”, and she Cannot see the choices for fear of the “Other.” Iron bangles graced her wrists and vermillion stained her feet and forehead. In place of oxtail, she eats curried eggs With her new husband. He is a stranger To her, and she a stranger to this land. Iron bangles graced her wrists and vermillion stained her feet and forehead. Her hands craft letter sent home with love While he catches up on world with Boston Herald And together, they are far apart still. Iron bangles graced her wrists and vermillion stained her feet and forehead. On a whim, he takes her to visit The conventional lady who sheltered him upon his arrival He waits for his bride to be criticized. Iron bangles graced her wr...