jimowenswrites

Reflections on Life, Leadership, Mindfulness, Change, and other Important Stuff

Month: December, 2018

Sometimes, when it’s quiet

Sometimes,

when it’s quiet,

when I sit and listen,

really listen,

hearing the barking dogs in the distance,

really hearing them,

hearing their yips and wails and pleading,

their unbridled pursuit of some unimaginable thing,

I wonder;

 

Sometimes,

when it’s quiet,

when I sit and listen,

really listen,

in that liminal space between waking and sleeping

hearing the electric hum of silence,

and the sounds that rattle and echo through these halls

I wonder;

 

Or sometimes,

when it’s quiet,

when I sit and listen,

really listen,

hearing the throbbing of my heart,

noticing the whoosh of blood coursing through me,

feeling the rise and fall of my chest, my lungs stoking the fire of life,

I wonder;

 

Sometimes,

when it’s quiet,

if only in my heart,

when I sit and listen,

really listen,

to the sound of far-off thunder,

when I hear the growing rage of an approaching storm,

hearing the wind rushing through the trees, faster and faster,

waiting on the next brilliant, terrifying flash of lightning to race across the sky,

I wonder:

 

Sometimes,

when it’s quiet,

when I sit and listen,

really listen,

I wonder,

 

I wonder why,

why I don’t sit and listen,

really listen.

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I should have kissed her

I should have kissed her

when we were standing there

in the shadows, amidst the silhouette

of neon and moonlight,

her cabernet lips plump, and tender, and moist,

her pupils wide,

her eyes aglow with reticent longing;

 

I should have kissed her

when my hand brushed against hers, and

I felt her warmth, and my heart throbbed

a comforting beat deep within my chest, before

the reckless hope of anticipation passed us by

like a wayward breeze on a hot August night;

 

I should have kissed her

when the wine and laughter had briefly thawed

the chill of my doubting, wounded heart,

before we offered one another kind well-wishes

of farewell, through despairing, half-hearted smiles.

 

I should have kissed her

when the possibilities loomed before us

like and endless desert highway at dawn, when

the tires thumped their brief but certain incantation of desire,

before my head overtook my heart,

and before mystery and enchantment gave way to cold calculations

of wisdom and logic, and before I had unwittingly given myself over to the deceit

to the cold deceit that this was not our time.

 

I should have kissed her.