the darkness at night
holds
our ghosts;
the memories of who we were
when we stumbled upon spaces
and claimed them as ours.
those pieces
like broken glass
leave their slivers inside us.
And as the night closes in
the ache of recollection
takes on shapes
in this slumbering place. – J. Hamilton
i wanted your story to end like this
-both of us looking up at the light that spills into your room
streaming across your bed
-kissing yout face.
my head on yout heart
..my ear listening to its music
while you stroke my tangled hair like you had done many times before.
the sound of your heart
my first and last lullaby.
you close your eyes as if to sleep
and i hear the final notes of your song.
J. Hamilton
It is spring
and the rain spills its large drops on my bare legs,
sandled feet.
In hair
loose in a pony tail
that sits across my shoulders.
On my face,
where tears
go unnoticed
in the down pour.
It is true what she says,
that rain is a kind
of letting go.
It is so much nicer than the sun,
she often says.
Maybe if I wait a while
I will listen to its music
and slowly
let go.
And accept
two deaths
in the wake of spring;
-my mother’s parting-
her cold
alabaster skin, pale like the lilies that filled my room when she died.
and the second death –
when my heart knew it was over
and I was left with pieces
of myself I had to put back together.
J. Hamilton
In my hair
on my face,
–
At the very top of a cotton bag
filled with your clothes
sits
a beige summer hat with a butterfly stitched into its fabric.
I remember you in this hat
sitting on a patio
with sunlight dancing across your face.
And your beautiful
oversized movie-star glasses
framing
your delicate features.
I managed to keep those glasses
along with your summer hat
your floral tops
a cotton nightgown
that you were saving for summer months-And
a flannel nightgown you wore many times,
-I remember hugging you in.
And a small box of treasures
from Italy;
including two orphaned earrings that I hope to turn into a pendant,
something to always remind me of you.
For now
I cannot sort through the contents of this bag,
but I know when I do
Your perfume will envelope me
like the scent of stargazer lilies
that leave their scent
in a room they once occupied.
By J. Hamilton
I have walked this path
many times before.
In spring before the trees leafed,
in summer
when shadows and fireflies filled the air,
in fall when the smell of leaves turning lingered on my sweater long after.
in winter, once again.
a january night
steeped in darkness.
I have felt alone before but this feeling seems different.
Yet the trees
though they sleep in their drowsy charcoaled outlines
dimming
in their own shadows across the cold cement
and the stars
blinking in a vast sky of onyx,
surround me.
I am alone yet
a part of this sleepy
silent
landscape.
In a single breath
I become
this landscape. – J. Hamilton
I watched you breathe a breath at a time, the day before you left. I remembered the legends you loved to tell on the red clay you spun on your potter’s wheel. Pegasus for my 15th birthday. S…
Source: for my father
I watched you breathe
a breath at a time,
the day before you left.
I remembered the legends you loved to tell
on the red clay you spun on your potter’s wheel.
Pegasus for my 15th birthday.
Smooth black paint
on a red baked amphora.
a winged horse,
the son of Poseidon,
god of the sea.
I wondered if when your breath stopped
you would be free
to fly
to see Mount Helicon
and at last
live high up in the night sky
among the constellations.
By J. Hamilton
