South Pool Run In

This day today I saw your face

and beheld your tender heart. My

heart leapt up forth as your head came

in view of my eyes, and inserted myself

into the fold. I observed up close, high, low,

up, and down, questioning if it could really be.

How you looked the same since the day we met,

and years later bore the same scent, I smiled and

you smiled back at me. My further beat more when

I heard you conversing, speaking in your mother tongue–

I’m so proud you’re engaged with who you are. Yet as you

left, camera in hand, I turned my face towards the water

flowing swiftly down the drain, behind my Lennon glasses

making an agonizing face. Surely on this day, seeing each

other was meant to be. A constant reminder of how one

holds the lock to the other’s key; you aesthetically stayed

the same; I changed my hair, clothes, perhaps even face

— you didn’t know my name.

 

  • Julia St. Clair, © 2017, 1:51 p.m.

 

Advertisements

Growing Apart

Day by day, hour by hour. Time

sits patiently yet races like a

thoroughbred all at once. And our

lives slip from each other, growing apart.

Single vs. married, homeowner vs. wanderlust,

Homemaker vs. writer, Settled vs. figuring out,

 

You pressure me so — to swallow my pride, settle

for less. How many years have our lives intertwined

and you still think I must accept second best? You

advise not to look at appearances, but your spouse is Khal

Drogo, so from experience you cannot speak. For

you above all know though the spirit is willing, my

thirst for pure flesh is weak. I lost myself, surrendered

all pride for a man who I loved years ago — why force

what isn’t there with losers and sigh?

 

And there it is again, you chastise me. But sorella mia,

do you remember not what I told you year ago? Don’t

set me up nor force me to settle; do not stir the pot,

make haste not to break the kettle.

Don’t you see I am a bird who refuses to be

caged? And yet you make me feel guilty for being

true to myself, day by day. So I accept this distance,

this growing apart. We will always have each other,

we’re just at different points in our lives. We possess

opposing characteristics, conflicting outlooks, different

hearts.

  • Julia St. Clair, ©2017, 1:09 p.m.

SoHo

Rocks against cast irons, subway

stations filled with being from

top to floor, exiting on past the

platform, reaching for above, light,

air, the buildings touched by angels,

heaven galore. How could humans

makes things such as these?

  • Julia St. Clair, ©2017

    *Image from Google Image search

What’s Meant to Be…

…it will, shall be, no matter the length

of time passing between you and

me. Stop dragging your feet, do not

fear — touch, reach out– I promise —

I am here; I bear no ill will, am holding

no grudge. The past is dead, finished, gone —

done. Years down the drain, keep calm — its

time to move on, and cast all anxiety aside. Pick

up the phone and call, what must you lose! We

already lost so much time. But descandsar

rest — I promise as we reunite, we’ll get by — for

what’s meant to be is..shall..will be…for what’s

meant to be is you — you and me.

  • Julia St. Clair, ©2017

    *Image from #StayQuotable via Google Image search

O César o nada

O César o nada, its all or nothing. O César

o nada, I must tell you something — O César o

nada — nothing or all, o César o nada, I shall not

fall, o O César o nada, you and me — what will be is shall

and meant to be, o O César o nada, we shall again meet — as

Fernando and Isabel united Spain, and Isabel de Portugal served

regent for her emperador, I know again we’ll be against the rocky

shores, as like ours, both unions were abandoned for awhile, before

either relationship truly begun, we were already together once, twice, you

and I are already twelve steps ahead — just stop it now, don’t be afraid– O César

o nada, my love. Come back, for O César o nada, we are each other’s destiny, O

César o nada, its you and me, O César o nada, where fate soon leads. O César o

nada, I’ve done my best, O César o nada, ritorna, come back, show me something

built to last. O César o nada, I am yours, and you are mine, O César o nada, you’re a

lready here, showing yourself all in due time. O César o nada, I let you and trust in

God to lead, O César o nada, us back together, tanto monta, monta tanto, our destiny. O

César o nada, you can run, but you can’t escape the fates. O César o nada, don’t

forget, dear one, not all is left to God, but given to man for his role to play. O César o

nada, time your time, get ready. O César o nada, I know your heart is full and heavy, but

O César o nada — the most precious thing we’re losing is time. O César o nada — call or

text me now, O César o nada, no one games — again let I be yours, and you be mine.

O César o nada — we cannot turn back the hands of time. O César o nada — but

we can begin, O César o nada, be in the present, be not afraid, for I was and am

always yours, and you were and are always mine. O César o nada, O César o nada,

O César o nada, O César o nada — let us reunite, happy and mature, creating our

future tanto monta, monta tanto — all in God’s time.

  • Julia St. Clair, ©2017, 11:49 AM

Old Love Through New, Open Shores

When it comes to you, my love, my heart is like iron, my

mind that of a conquistador; Just as Columbus dashed

across the shores of a land strange and foreign to his

plans, like Cortes stampeded across the Yucatan, conquering

and slaughtering the first world at hand, as though I were

Pizarro, who marched further south, another empire

capturing on, so I long to sail away to new lost shores, see

your face, complete the Reconquista in my heart, and hold

you safely in my arms. The years no doubt changed me, altering

my face, my body, my hair, myself; perhaps you, my love, transformed

as well, yet the difference it makes is none, for I know in my heart, the

explorer’s curse, what is good and true — I’d sail through

the heavens, climb up mountains, swim the seas and ocean floor, dive

head first into the molten lava and bathe in lake of fires whether they

are on earth or through l’inferno e purgatorio, just to see your face

again, if only to hear your voice. You — the Paris to my Helen, the

Fernando to my Isabel. Tanto monta, monta tanto — together we are

the same, only separated by past pain. Through all trials and festivals,

I find you in a different place. And thus by welcoming you back, through

just one simple spark, the old world forms with new, we return to one

another a third time, this time built to last, for the first time in forever, I

finally am at peace, this ship will land — my

Odyssey of aggeta is ended.

Puncture

Puncture the wound on the

breast of my heart, tales of

new glories and old woes which

tear us apart, lay down the

blade, grasp deeply my hand, breathe

upon my breath as if this moment is

your last. A hole in a hole — salt massaged

into my wounds. A new day arises, yet

what else is there to do?

Una vita alla traccia

Una vita alla traccia — a life

to trace, born and bred of this

the human race, and for all to see, to

hear, to grin, to bear, to rise high and

fall so low, there are tales to be told

of those who kept the most precious

gift — they never lost hope.

Buff-a-Dub-Dub

Buff-a-dub-dub, three hands

in a tub — scrubbing the grim away

in vain effortlessly to show the surface,

to make her clean. Buff-a-dub-dub — embers

glow in the tub as the dark, sticky

covering was erased. Buff-a-dub-dub — true

light, true hope, true love radiates forth from

the tub, detonating a glow that renews and

refreshes her face — she is at peace.