Yearning

My soul and body and mind
all yearn for you,
the answer to my fervent prayers.
The splash of cool blessed water
on parched limbs and tongues.
The heat of melding, joining
burning all resistance away
all fears away, that you
might someday hurt me.
I yearn and you answer,
and there is no greater joy
than this, water and heat
binding us into one.

Work in Progress

I will take your hand, my love,
in front of all our kin.
I will walk to you, my love,
white silk upon my skin.
I will give to you, my love,
my soul, my tender heart.
Intertwined with you, my love,
a shining, bright new start.

And when we stand in front, my love,
the rabbi will read there
The words I write to you, my love,
tell all my sincere prayer.
What words that he will say, my love,
I really just don’t know.
This work in progress still, my love,
the poem just won’t flow.

What do I love about you so?
You love me, whether words or no.

A Day Without Freedom

A Day Without Freedom
by Bob Boucher

A day without freedom?
Ask Rodney King.

Five years without freedom?
Ask John McCain.

Twenty-seven years without freedom?
Ask Nelson Mandela.

Let not those iron bars imprison your soul.
Let them have your rags and bones
but keep your mind your very own.
A body crucified with thorn and nail
a mind imprisoned yet soul set free
yields not one inch to tyranny.

Freedom is a blessing to be
always cherished
religiously.

The Quiet

I loved the quiet, most days.
It would wrap around me, soft and moist
rich with imagined dreams
as I searched, hoping
to find my prince, my future.
Or it would console me
as I cried hot painful tears
of longing and forbidden love.
The quiet was my only friend, some days.
But what was is no longer what is,
and I’m glad to see the quiet
limp away from my doorway, to find
another soul who needs a friend.

Sprawl

I see you.

Well, not you,

not really, not

the you wherever

you lie sleeping tonight

but the you

you were two

short weekends ago

sprawled carelessly

happily languid

across my bed.

Our bed, now.

It’s your soul

haunting our bedroom

a ghost of you

that brings a ghost

of a smile

back to me.

You have such

gorgeous sprawl.