poetry

Day 212: Joy in the Morning

| Aspergers Girls

Joy in the Morning

I kiss joy in the morning as thoughts of you bow down in gentle gratitude

And affection she dances lightly through the bedcovers, spreading rose petals, red above

How sweetness falls upon the day, fresh crimson, rainbows soft

And handsome tiptoes through merriment, his puckered lips smiling

Beauty she blushes, and gathers love in baskets woven by the twinkle of dawn’s amber eyes

Feathered pillow springs forward and welcomes tickles from hope, chuckle laughs wearing a shy pink

And bold blanket, he harnesses the voluptuous dream of the night, his treasure to marry

The floor becomes ocean and reins in a guild of seahorses made to roar with indigo passion

Folded in dreamland, bed castle winks and mattress plays cymbals in orchestra duvet

Strong faith appears, in this space between, where wishes wear sparkling ruby crowns

Tomorrow, she laughs and splashes butterscotch clouds at strawberry-popcorn glee

While always and forever tango close beside the groom of starlit night and bride of chamber music

Come find me here, beneath the giggling moonbeams and peek-a-boo painted bed sheets

Come find joy, before reason slips beyond the kaleidoscope guard and sleeping disbelief awakes

~ Samantha Craft, August 2012

Photos and Words by Samantha Craft. All rights reserved.

Day 207: My Words Put to Music: Traits

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Traits of Females with Aspergers (words by Samantha Craft)

I did not make this video.

My Words Put to Music

Hello you, who longs to be loved and noticed

You know everything is okay? Right?

You know you are just experiencing emotions

Nothing else

You are not flawed

You are not wrong

You are perfect in your feelings

It’s okay

You don’t have to pretend anymore

It’s okay

Show all your colors

You are most beautiful that way

Share what you have found inside of you

This truth

That even in your frailty and fear, you are beauty

There is no shame

In being real

We all get scared

We all get worried

We all believe someone might steal something or someone

But they can’t

They are just borrowing

Just basking in the collective wisdom

Remember nothing in this world is yours

You know happiness is not found in possession

So today give what was never yours

To a world that is you

And let your words be put to music

~ Samantha Craft, August 2012

And I say my favorite daily mantra: How could life get any better than this!

Day 202: For This

| Aspergers Girls

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Images from the great northwest of Washington State USA. By Samantha Craft.

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For This

What is love to me, my angels asked

I answered, your eyes in my heart

Shining bright upon the drinking flowers

I watered and listened

To the voices in my mind

And they came like sunlight

The waves I am

Blessing me with the softness of your face

I peeled back the day then

The greenery and cedar grand

Bowed in recognition

Of what I held inside

The joy

The hope

The invention of me, reborn

All stood back, the heaven’s cloud

And asked, as one

Are you certain

Is all worth

This

I stood there then

In quiet

My view slowly shifting

Reality a game

And I answered aloud

In the way a soul speaks from beneath

I answered

Yes

All is worth this

And the questions came:

And what of pain

Shall you hurt

For this

Shall you turn from your very wishes

Shall you sacrifice

For one moment

For one chance

And I sang

As the raven to her love

But for a moment

I would give my life

But for a moment

I would change eternity

And the unity spoke again

Questioning my faith

My desire

And you would alter everything

For this

They asked

Change your world

For this

And I answered with a tear

Yes, the silence said

There is no love

Without his embrace

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~ Sam Craft, August 2012

Day 201: Strangled Love

| Aspergers Girls

Strangled Love

I cannot love you anymore

I am done

I have given everything

And you have taken nothing

But the best pieces

Now shattered and disfigured

Unrecognizable to even death

 

I cannot love you anymore

You are torture

The cruelest kind

That wrings the neck wet

And sticks probes of fire

To ignite electric harm

A fence singed into screaming flesh

I cannot love you anymore

My heart a piano

To be tuned and banged upon

To be opened

Used for company

And left in isolated silence

No longer

I cannot love you anymore

You are the slow bleed and I am emptied

You are the wind and I am chaffed

You are the widow black

And I am babe

Last light extinguished in poisoned bite

I cannot love you anymore

If I am sun

Then you are surely night

If I am proximity, then you are distance

If I am truth, then you are bundled secrets

If I am voice, then you be the empty echo

I cannot love you anymore

With throat aflame

Eyes streaked crimson

Ears mangled in blistered bursts

Soul purged of stagnant dreams

I dismiss you

I cannot love you anymore

This pleading woman

Garbed in netted veil

lingering in your vacancy

I strangle her with vengeance

Until she knows with last breath

I cannot love you anymore

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Images and Words by Samantha Craft, August 2012

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Photos taken at Mt. Rainier National Park, Washington, USA

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Captures my heart, indeed.

Day 199: If My Heart…

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If My Heart…

If my heart were a river I would pour out and cleanse, cascade upon furrowed brow and kiss droplets of hope into cherished vase, filling the memorized grooves with relished joy

If my hands were a tiger I would romp upon you, creep into the caverns of your folds, where flesh hides secrets behind the woven mask of unrest, devouring the enemy of uncertainty

If my voice were a jungle I would swing from vine to vine, wrap you in canopy’s green until weary of delight, then slither and wind round your limbs with hissing desire

If my eyes were a waterfall I would forge into you, pounding with sweetness until with heated breath you collapse into the coolness of my welcoming, unsheltered in naked awareness

If my lips were a butterfly I would burst and fly forth to the nectar, escaping the dark fertile grounds to reach the narrow opening of acceptance, and merge there, face to face with delectable taste

If my body were a mountain I would explode from the fury of expectation, cutting a passageway through for traveler desired, the birthed fragments of rock my testimony of future gifts

If my mind were a raven’s nest I would shelter thoughts of the sun weaved through auburn hair, the gape of diamond neck, the peak of temple, the valley of chest

If my time were an artesian well I would spring forth and seize the last drops of love, and spoon the remnants into a symphony of water, where forever I would swim in the hallowed place of you

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By Samantha Craft, August 2012

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