Free Verse # 401 (her healing presence)

The ocean at night, a poem without a skin.


Sleepless in this longing
the desire that leaves me aching
for the dew of her silken thighs,
the ink of my poetry.


Weaving the candle’s light…
a shawl around her neck,
a dress to adorn
the curves of her nakedness.


Her womb
the ocean calling
all his rivers,
their flow
an electric surge
coursing her skin,
carrying the fires
of ancient altars
to the roots of her desire.
His swollen heat,
his tidal flow,
a surge in her belly
rippling concentric,
deeper than the ocean,
wider than the sky.


to write, to live,
to breathe again,
to find myself open
to the light of the sky,
a poet wanderer,
a bird of passage.


Making love
and recording our voices
reading poetry,
Rumi, Neruda,
and the fervent silences
of our merging lips.


ضياء القمر
بحار تائه
في أسود شعرها


Artist Unknown

Her healing presence,
merging with him
she lights his fire
when it dwindles,
unafraid of his dark
she sees into him,
moves into him,
rooting his heart
in her boundless love.

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