Dependent, bonded, true:
I am to you.
No maiden fair, but fairly made,
Adored but unadorned, as aspects fade;
Our link unbreakable, it seems,
As far as reckless dreams
May be; harder than time,
Deeper than the blinding cold,
This puzzling, fearsome climb,
Failing, falling, finding
You above, beneath, behind,
To guide my awkward flight,
I leap, oblivious of altitude
Or attitude,
Errant landings, or proper treason
Of my bones; despite
The glory of the sky’s bright charms
I range no further than the reason
For your smiles, the answers in your arms.

Anita Hunt
March 24, 2007

Silhouette

Silhouette
It was never me, it was you;
My body bears your imprint and your trace
As I have bourn the profile of your weight;
Beneath my frame, a phantom of your image
Hides a dance in firelight; no true
Details, but shadows only, leaping, chase
My dreams, grown cold and pale among the great
And raging flames: declined, diminished, dim.

I am the way I am
the way (you are).
It is not want, but what I cannot claim
That feeds the famine buried in my soul.
No lack of light, but blindness to the day
That seeks the sight’s surrender to a far
Less sunlit plane. I waltz among the lame
And whisper to the deaf, “be well and whole;”
Though I am lost, I have no words to say.

Anita Hunt
Revised
03/22/07

Self Portrait

It was never me, it was you;
My body bears your imprint and your trace
As I have bourn the shadow of your weight;
Beneath that frame, a phantom of your image
Hides a dance in firelight; no true
Details, but shadows only, leaping, chase
My dreams, grown cold and pale among the great
And raging flames: declined, diminished, dim.

I am the way I am
the way (you are).
It is not want, but what I cannot claim
That feeds the famine buried in my soul.
No lack of light, but blindness to the day
That seeks the sight’s surrender to a far
Less sunlit plane. We waltz among the lame
And whisper to the deaf, “be well and whole;”
Though we are lost, we find no words to say.

Anita Hunt
03/10/07

Caiti has been putting "Confronting the Angel" to music--I heard a little of it over the cell phone (she has software that she can use as a mini-studio--not up to Todd's standards, but it lets her get ideas down and listen to them). I don't know how she can put a melody to free verse, but she knows what to do, apparently.
I'm working on another poem. I'll put it up shortly.

Confronting the Angel

Gripping strands of my life

My hands clench,

But do not feel.

Pain

Scorching cold

Open like a flower in my spine,

Rolling from brain to toes,

Beginning where my youth ends.

My voice decayed;

Stretched and frayed,

Too thin to play,

Too low to hear.

When it was lost,

Yours led me safely,

Softly

Home.

Diverted, the dormant mind lies fallow,

Confuses belief with deed,

Dilutes the fiery tincture of imagination

To insipid wash,

Poured out,

Lost in sand and rock

Along the weedy path.

Distant music;

Your song,

My heart,

Grows faint, pale.

Is it your voice, or mine that cries?

In Sanity,

Insanity.

Belief,

Be Leaf.

There are lives that come to little more than life;

We must risk more than lightning to make a blaze.

Anita Hunt

01/18/07

Siren

Siren
(for Caiti)

It was our
11:11,
4-leaf clover,
First star I see tonight,
Longest part,
Blow out all the candles,
Send this to 10 friends
Wish.

You smiled when I had only tears,
And sang when I had no music.
I opened my heart and you charmed me aloft.

You forsook those melodic dreams;
I fell out of the sky.

Fly away.
It is your sky to explore,
And there are sensible goals even in heaven.

Only fools jump when they have no wings.

Catch me before I am broken.

Anita Hunt 1/21/06