Beneath the Stars

There is a blanket
in a field
under the silver dappled sky,
where we lay side by side.
We speak softly,
between fits of giggles,
sharing our hopes and dreams.
Wherever life takes us,
I like to think,
that we will always have
our blanket
beneath the stars.

©2014 Courtney Ann Howard

The Love of a Child

I am lost
in your arms around my neck,
squeezing,
as you giggle with delight.
My nose finds that little spot
between your neck and your ear
and I inhale your smell,
your essence.
Your eyes meet mine
and I fall
head over heels
in love.
Again.
We've met before somewhere,
in another time,
another place.
We've traveled far and wide,
hand in hand.
I'm sure.
Because never have I felt so alive,
so intact, as I do
with your little fingers
on my cheeks
as you gaze at me
full of trust,
adoration,
love,
and call me

Mama.


©2014 Courtney Ann Howard

What Are Bodies For?

Bodies are merely temporary housing
for our transient souls
as they navigate this plane of existence
living,
loving,
learning;
in hopes of coming out in the end
having become
better,
wiser,
stronger,
than they were in the life before.


©2014 Courtney Ann Howard

Grasping Words

The words are there within the confines of my bones. They swirl and pulse with an energy all their own. If only I could grab them, make them stop their flighty dance, I could share with the world all of the glorious places I've been, the people I've seen, the things I've done. But it is no easy task, this capturing of words.

©2014 Courtney Ann Howard

On a Bridge

“What is he doing?” the woman beside me asks no one in particular. She has joined the rest of us to watch what is sure to be a collision of life and death. At first it was just me, entranced by the man on the edge of the bridge. Soon others joined; a magnetic gathering of morbid curiosity.

My shoulders rise and fall in response. My answer says I’m not sure, but that is a lie. I know what he’s doing. He’s looking for an end to the anguish, the cessation of pain. He’s searching for peace.

A police officer stands a few feet to my right barking into a megaphone. His pleas fill the void between the man and his growing audience but there is no sincerity in the officer’s eyes. He is simply doing his job; keeping order, avoiding chaos.

It is a beautiful evening for the end of this man’s story. His clothes ripple in the wind as he stands against a sky painted in pinks and golds. The clouds hang in tufts, offering his soul a place to rest before it continues onto the next leg of its journey. This moment seems almost frozen in time. The serenity is chilling and I shiver as goose bumps race across my skin.

The officer’s voice continues its monotonous begging. Please step down. You have so much to live for. Think of the people you love. We call those who end their lives cowards. We say they are selfish. But it is we who are those things. We are selfish to want to keep them even though they want out. We are cowards for being unable to say good bye. What right do we have to make decisions for others? We sit upon our pedestals of righteousness and cast our judgments down upon the heads of those around us.

But I offer no judgment. I merely stand, silent, and observe his internal war from the outside. A feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me his decision is solidifying. His mucky crystal ball is finally becoming clear.

He moves his hands to his head and runs his fingers through his hair. The crowd grows still. The sound of the city, which I always considered to be cacophonous, is somehow muffled as we stand here watching, waiting; barely breathing.

A few torturous seconds later he drops his hands. He turns to face us and the officer beside be gives him an atta boy. He tells him he’s making the right decision. Everything will be okay.

His face is a mask of power. He exudes confidence. His posture is proud. He raises his arms with painstaking slowness as his lips spread in a smile. And just like that his body tilts back as he freefalls to the river below.

Gasps and screams escape the mouths of the gathered. All I can manage is a sad smile and a sigh. How wonderful it must feel to be free, to find happiness, no matter the cost. 

©2014 Courtney Ann Howard

Release

My eyes ache.

They've been scraped raw

By my sandpaper tears.

My eyelids close,

Giving soothing hugs on the inside.

I fall asleep,

Exhausted from it all.

©2014 Courtney Ann Howard

Fall Is Coming

The sun is getting lazy;
Tired from long days of caressing flowers and kissing cheeks.
It sinks, each night, into its bed behind the horizon
A few minutes earlier than it did the night before.
The moon stretches with a yawn,
Ready for the change in shifts;
Eager for more hours on the clock.
The breeze, just a little cooler than yesterday,
Whispers images of what is to come:
Snugly blankets,
Crunching leaves,
Roaring fires.
A reprieve from the scorching heat
and thirstiness
that summer often brings.
Fall is coming.
I am ready.


©2014 Courtney Ann Howard