PamelaMacBean

Before

Ions danced upon my skin
as lightning sizzled the sky
before the rain, before the rain.

A soft kiss stunned my world,
spun silk upon my soul
before the pain, before the pain.

Enduring

What a stretch - the Milky Way
dripping stars into my eyes.
An ancient candelabrum
beaming light from ages past
like a soul wrapped in eternity
reaches out,
still flickering
memories.

Unbalanced

Touching soft new growth,
gray flecked brown,
rising straight up
out of chemo-cooked scalp.
Long flowing curls
hacked off in front of
toothpaste speckled mirror,
months ago. Trashed.

Feeling too butch,
so
earrings spangle dangle,
blushed cheeks glow
with artificial health,
lipstick glowing femininity.
But upon hearing,
"It'll grow back,"
she thinks of the new
heaviness, a prosthetic,
on the left side
of her chest,
weighing her down.

One Minute After Midnight

I shed my skin -
no more slithering in dust clouds
upon a belly filled with fear.

Moon shadows etched
on spring's alabaster mural
are more violet than black
upon this voiceless night
that steals the stars;
my bruised spirit healing -
moving closer to
light than darkness.

Espying the poetry within
all creation I rise above
earthly woes,
this area where wings soar
within lambskin clouds,
within blue ether,
whether of birds or angels.
I treasure the pastel butterfly of life
trembling in my outstretched hand,
a gift of another day.

Pamela MacBean lives in the Great North Woods of New Hampshire. Besides writing poetry she enjoys photography and decorative painting. Published in Open Mind's Quarterly, Adagio Verse Quarterly, Autumn Leaves, Subtletea.com and Interpoetry recently.