Along the Lifeline's Crease

My lifeline's crease is deeper now than long.

How long is a lifeline?

How high is the sky?

 

Forget the length. This lifeline's deep,

its chasm's walls lined with

gatherings of silk in colours

made from insect bodies, ground minerals,

flowers dried and crumbled.

The silks float free and flutter,

rainbows that glow in all weathers.

 

The rim of the chasm's walls

displays an endless line of portraits—

gnarled, wrinkled, smooth:

people of the earth, and each one beautiful.

 

The floor of my lifeline's canyon

gleams malachite in marbled green

bearing the feet of passing royalty.

 

My lifeline is deeper now than long.

But I would not trade its riches

for any increased length.

 

 

Copyright 2014 Ann Tudor

www.anntudor.ca

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ann Tudor www.anntudor.ca
http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com

Preparing for Winter

My fingers go numb with October's first frost.

Where is life?

Why does my blood not flow

from heart to fingertips?

A long distance, to be sure, but still.

Still.

Isn't that how it usually works?

 

Well, I can kvetch all winter long

and it won't warm up my hands.

I need a new solution.

 

Movement, for example.

Jumping jacks.

I'll leap from the chair and bounce!

Or remain seated and flex the fingers

as I make a heart connection

energetically.

I will live in my opening heart

and send live wires of sensed energy

coursing along the lines and pathways

of my body's ocean.

 

Or else, to bring a little warmth to my hands,

I'll steal it from my partner's heated back.

He'll never miss it,

with that fiery furnace burning in his chest.

I rest my hands, fingers spread,

on his hot skin

until his heat becomes my own.

 

 

Copyright 2014 Ann Tudor

www.anntudor.ca
http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com

Ain't She Sweet?

Sweet does not draw me as a personal trait.

As a taste it does, too much.

But as a human characteristic?

Oh, spare me.

 

Sweet women's soft falsetto voices

show they are no threat.

They hide their nature--from you

as well as from themselves.

Give me bitter or sour,

gut-wrenched seers and seekers,

happy or even unhappy in their skins

but honest and open about it.

 

Don't coat the kernel of self

in an M&Ms shell.

Give me no pastel sugar-robed almonds.

I want what is, not some smooth-surfaced

slick-willy version.

 

When I go,

no one will say, '"She was such a sweet old lady."

You can take that to the bank!

 

 

Copyright 2014 Ann Tudor

www.anntudor.ca
http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com