Tuesday, January 22, 2013

“Some Days”

            Some days, I long to write. My mind yearns to sit with pen clenched in fingers as I translate all the visions in my head into images spilling across the page. Or I spend endless hours with my laptop, creating new worlds peopled by my limitless imagination. I focus on a single meaning and play with a multitude of words until I find just the right combination of syllable. I fill page after page with my heart and soul, and still find more to say. I feel free. I feel young. I feel weightless. I am possibilities.
            Some days, I long to sing. I throw back my head and belt out a song with rapturous abandon. I scale through octaves like a diva. My voice becomes a mockingbird that imitates any singer my spirit desires. I croon lullabies and wail the blues. I feel powerful. I feel bold. I feel ecstasy. I am possibilities.

Belly Dancer by David Chapman
            Some days, I long to dance. I pirouette across the kitchen as I head out the door. I step-shuffle-step-step to the car. I shimmy as I drive to the store. In the parking lot, I perform perfect fan kicks over the grocery cart before I belly dance down the aisles. I feel daring. I feel vivacious. I feel sexy. I am possibilities!

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Monday, January 21, 2013

"A Thousand Sleepless Nights"

In the dark of night,   
she rocks and hums   
her hand rubbing circles upon her baby’s back   
he hiccoughs   
tucks his small feet against her warmth   
slips into slumber   
she rocks and hums until dawn   
In the dark of night,   
she paces and frets   
her lips pressed to his forehead   
measuring his heat   
as he cries, “Mommy, make it better!”   
she stretches out next to him   
wrapping him in her love   
as she wills away his pain   
In the dark of night,   
she listens and waits   
her body tense and alert   
until the clicking of key in lock   
the signal that he’s safe   
his voice floats on moonlight, “I’m home”   
In the dark of night,   
she sits and cries   
as he unburdens his fears   
her arms ache to hold him, rock him again   
she longs to take away his pain, shelter him from harm   
In the dark of night,   
she rocks and weeps   
her hand rubbing circles over her heartbreak   
her fingers long to stroke his hair, touch his cheek   
her kiss longs to linger on his brow just one more time   
her despair flows   
endless and evermore   

Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman