God said to me

"I want you to play,"
He said to me.
"I want you to
smile
the way you smile,
laugh
the way you laugh,
dance
the way you dance,
sing
the way you sing.
I want you to
love
the way we love,
live
the way we live.
I want you to always
be happy."
I saw Him
smile
a moment
before I saw only
the sea and
the horizon.

Wolves at play

Running.

First on two feet, laughing, feeling wind on our faces. Then...

Running.

Now on all fours, breathing steady, feeling wind in our fur. Smelling all there is to smell - one another, the ground beneath our feet, the air of freedom. Where are we going? It doesn't matter, we're only...

Running.

We're only being, there is no destination. A moment, we come closer to one another, so close that we can feel the heat of each other's bodies, can feel the other's muscles working, moving, stretching and contracting. Oh that delicious heat, it fuels us, makes us go faster, faster. We can't stop, we're...

Running.

The energy is rising, it feels like it will burst. No! Don't send it away, don't escape from it. Let it swirl in the depths of your belly, beat with the beat of your heart, pound drums in the spaces of your mind. We let ourselves go! We run, run, run, run...

Stop.

The air is still. We can feel the silence between each beat of the heart, each breath of the lungs. We can feel one another tremble. Our eyes close. Our heads lift.

Howling.

And every being in existence can hear it, can feel it.

Your beard

I love when
it is long
and you are
savage and
wild
like me,
and my fingers
go in
trekking its
landscape,
searching your
skin and
traveling back
to your lips
like a maiden
to a well

I love when
it is short
and you are
bright and
contagious
like your
smile,
and my eyes
travel
every line
of your
clever grin,
like paths
to your lips
for a maiden
to a well

Fireweed meditation

There is dirt, brown, dry, but in the center there is the Fireweed, green, colorful, staring straight at the sun.

And there is someone next to the fireweed. Is that me, or is that someone familiar? A different face, body, smile, scent, but the same. She is laying down face up, like a flower bathing in the sun. There are movements, quick like someone fast-forwarding through a movie. She sits up, smiles, laughs, her chest always open, her heart full. Then she lays back down and... she is dead. Her body decays. There are bones. But there, somewhere in the carcass, there is a light. It's her. And again I see her, or is that someone familiar? A different face, body, smile, scent, but the same. She is laying down, face up, like a flower bathing in the sun. She sits up, smiles, laughs, her chest always open, her heart full. Then she lays down. I know she will decay but I know she will not die. She comes back, different, but the same. The same laugh, the same smile. Her chest still open, her heart still full.

I cry at the beautiful sight.

By Francesca Moschini

Meditazione su Fireweed

C'è sporco, marrone, secco, ma al centro c'è Fireweed, verde, colorato, che guarda diritto al sole.

E c'è qualcuno accanto a Fireweed. Sono io quella o è qualcuno di familiare? Una faccia, un corpo, un sorriso, un odore differente, ma lo stesso. Sta sdraiata con la faccia in su, come un fiore che si bagna al sole. Ci sono dei movimenti, veloci come se uno avanzasse velocemente attraverso un film. Lei si siede, sorride, ride, il suo petto sempre aperto, il suo cuore pieno. E poi si rimette giù e... lei è morta. Il suo corpo decade. Ci sono ossa. Ma lí, da qualche parte nella carcassa, c'è una luce. È lei. E di nuovo la vedo, o è qualcuno familiare? Una faccia, un corpo, un sorriso, un odore differente, ma lo stesso. Sta sdraiata con la faccia in su, come un fiore che si bagna al sole. Si siede, sorride, ride, il suo petto sempre aperto, il suo cuore pieno. E poi si rimette giù. So che decadrà, ma so che non morirà. Torna indietro, differente, ma la stessa. La stessa risata, lo stesso sorriso. Il suo petto ancora aperto, il suo cuore ancora pieno.

Piango alla bellissima visione.

(Grazie a Carlo Lopez per la traduzione.)

A Sunday morning

They are rolling around in the sunlight by the sea, sand sticking to their bodies as they land and falling off as they come up. And they are laughing. I can hear it before the waves crash ashore and again as the waves roll back into sea.
I don’t know what they are laughing about.
Do they?
Does it matter?
For a moment, they stop rolling, stop laughing. He is over her, looking at her. I see their mouths slightly open, no sounds, only their eyes continue to smile and laugh.
Who came closer?
Was it her or him?
Does it matter?
Each came closer, one for the other. A kiss. Deep. They roll; kissing, grabbing, caressing. Arms and legs wrapped one over the other.

I can hear their love even through the sounds of the waves.

You and I (we feel like poetry)

I didn't intend on it... When I wrote the first poem, I was only writing, not intending to make a series. Looking at the five poems, it makes sense... We experienced one another with our five senses after years of just our souls (the part that really matters). A moment... afraid this will turn into the shallow pleasure of bodies searching for warmth that isn't there? Impossible. Physically, my fingers touch you, but it is my heart trailing the hairs on your arm. Our tongues glide, but it is each other's light that we are tasting. My eyes follow the curve of your smile, but it is my soul looking into yours. My ears funnel the sound of your voice, but it goes straight to my heart where it can dance to the sound. And your smell... it goes in through my nose, but it reaches every part of me, parts physically nonexistent.

You see? It's simple. You and I. Together we make poetry.

***

You and I (what it feels like to touch you)

I touch you and
it’s as though I
touch every
cell and
fiber
that was or
is or
will be
your being.
And I can’t quite tell
where
you and
I
are
and I’ve forgotten
where
you and
I
have been
and it doesn’t matter
where
you and
I
will be.
Because, right now,
in this moment,
we just
are

***

You and I (what it feels like to kiss you)

Like our fingers
finding one another
through the swing in our steps
so do our tongues
search and find
each other
as you and
I
kiss.
Our saliva
mixes and
each pain and
guilt and
fear
of yesterdays
melt
in the power of
you and
I
together
and it tastes so
good

***

You and I (what it feels like to see you sleep)

Our legs crossed,
entangled,
together.
And I see your face,
sleeping:
a smile?
And I smile back,
wondering:
a dream?
It’s you and
I
in this moment
but it feels like
it’s all the you’s and
all the I’s
in every life
in every time
in every breath
and it’s
strange
and it’s
weird
but it’s
us
and it’s
beautiful

***

You and I (what it feels like to listen to your heart)

Here
my head on your
chest,
your arms around
me,
listening to the
light breathing
as you drift off to
sleep.
It’s just
you and
I
here
where our hearts
do all the talking;
they whisper
our dreams,
our secrets,
retell our joys,
kiss away our sorrows.
They beat to the
beat
of our names,
thump…
thump…
bum…
bum…
Here,
with this lullaby,
you and
I
fall asleep

***

You and I (what it feels like to smell you)

I smell you
in the fibers of my
clothes,
on the cells of my
skin,
even in memories
of
you and
I
embraced.
That smell of yours
that takes me
home
somehow,
here,
watching you sleep,
listening to your heartbeat,
caressing your skin,
tasting your kiss.
Smelling you,
breathing you in deeply
so that
my lungs may feel you
as my heart does

(All five can also be found on my Medium blog.)

The boy and his Lion

The boy stood there
guarding the Lion,
his Lion.
“There was a girl here once,
a fighter,
and I will not let her back here again.”
He looked up at me
with defiant eyes
bluer than the sky,
deeper than the sea,
beyond his years.
I came down to meet his face,
“What did the fighter do?”
His eyes pierced but
I could see that hint,
that touch, of sadness.
“She did what she pleased,
she pushed and
pulled,
she came and
went,
she was the Lioness
to my Lion
and she ran.”
The boy crossed his arms
as though speaking of this
would somehow jeopardize his heart,
his Lion,
his wellbeing.
I touched his arm
hoping to undo his stance,
urging him to look into me
again.
When he looked at me,
this time,
he could see it.
In my eyes he could see
the fighter
with her mage
laughing
dipping in that sea
as they used to,
greeting the night
and kissing goodbye the morning
as they used to.
And though he was afraid
the boy mage could not look away;
the strength in his arms
wavered,
the bite in his eyes
softened.
And after so long,
the fighter and the mage
looked at one another
again
and neither one was
running.

(Also posted on my Medium blog.)