Northwest

Day 189: That Moment

| Aspergers Girls

That Moment

I want to be that moment

in a black and white film

when man pulls woman into his arms

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I want to be that passion

the lyrics in the love song

that leave you gasping

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I want to be that instant

when mother sees newborn

and souls embrace

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I want to be that sigh

as lost wanderer tracks

the sun dripping below ocean

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I want to be that completion

the final missing piece

of the perfect puzzle

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I want to be that reason

you sprint back home

to find what was forgotten

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I want to be that breaking

the mile-marker when runner weeps

and then pushes onward, strengthened

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I want to be that second

when one first beholds his beloved

and understands she is his answer

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I want to be that ache

the final line of a love poem

~

photograph and words by Samantha Craft, July 2012

Day 188: You

| Aspergers Girls
Washington State Park
by Sam Craft

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You

I searched a thousand love songs

I thumbed through printed prose

I edged my mind round poems thick

All words that rhymed with rose

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In storybook or tale

The answer did not rest

And so I tried with might

To search through nature vast

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From animal to tree

From sky to crumbled rock

I walked from path to path

I tracked the soaring hawk

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In vain I hung head low

In sorrow and in shame

I had not found the answer

And had to start again

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This time I looked at art

Communicated form

To marble, paint, and print

To oddities adorned

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To everything that came

To everything I saw

I could not find the answer

Not hanging on a wall

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My legs they soon grew tired

My heart it gave a thump

My mind was spinning top

My throat it felt a lump

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How could I describe you

And show you how I cared

Declare my adoration

When you weren’t anywhere

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And so I found a tree

So very tall, and sat

And took a deep breath in

And thought of this and that

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I reasoned and I volleyed

I cursed and threw a fit

I hollered and I worried

And even gasped a bit

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Until the answer flew

Smack straight into my heart

And suddenly I knew

How to piece together parts

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I found you weren’t outside me

Not anywhere I’d looked

Not locked within the words

Of any single book

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I saw you clearly now

In everything you are

The golden thread of hope

My brilliant shining star

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A source that danced within

My ever waking dream

Inspirer of wishes

Interwoven in my seams

~

Sam Craft

July 2012

I’m kind of in a music mode….hehehehe 🙂

Day 187: Sometimes I Am

| Aspergers Girls

Sometimes I am.

Sometimes I am suspended in time. Unable to stop staring ahead at what could be.

Sometimes I am a twisted warrior upon wooden horse entwined with emotion.

Sometimes I am wounded. A broken woman watching the east for the sun that never came.

Sometimes I am the shadow crying up to the heavens.

Sometimes I am knight hidden in the corner. Eyes a glow with fear and spear made sharp.

Sometimes I am crucified in the forest of thought.

Sometimes I am twin flame, calling out to lost lover.

Sometimes I am clinging branch longing for confirmation of my existence.

Sometimes I am a naked glow, harboring the mysteries.

Sometimes I am refugee, sleeping in my corner of light.

Sometimes I am dancing spirit with partner grace.

Sometimes I am union, passion, and joy.

Sometimes I am a jester pointing the way to laughter.

Sometimes I am constant searcher.

Sometimes I am beauty that sweeps across stage.

Sometimes I am electric.

Sometimes I stand together.

Sometimes I rise alone.

Sometimes I am.

~~~~~

Photos and words by Sam Craft. Trees on my walk.

Day 180: The Green in Me

| Aspergers Girls


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The Green in Me

You are the green in me

The emerald forest of my heart

An energy perpetually emerging

That embraces and gives life air

You are the glorifying hush

The corner of my cherished secrets

A trove of shielded appetite

Which touches flesh in dreams

You are beyond the expansive darkness

Entered whole and complete

Gentle man’s crystalline eyes

Of familiar amber light

You are melting gaze

A night crawler, an evening star

The very view of needs increased

My every comfort in velvet care

*

You are the shade of fairy grove

Hunger drummed strong

Evergreen, ever moist, ever calling

The budding sunlight in me

You are the brilliant sea

Painted opulence

Pearly grace

Pastels and swirling hues

You are a blended master’s piece

A dance to be seen

To be swept and seized

Within the ebbing essence of my existence

Images by Sam Craft 2012: Washington State Park July 2012

Day 179: Paste Me to the Moon

| Aspergers Girls

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bGS08ncd30Y

Photographs of State Park in Washington (July 2012)

I am lost for words today. A woman in a forest of thoughts and mystery, both intrigued and frightened by her own mind.

I am between two rivers, two streams of thought, of how I am to be and what I want to be.

I question my every need, my every desire, my unyielding passion. And yet I know I am pure. I know I am enough. But I wonder where to turn in my mind. Where to stop. Where the boundaries are…when thoughts are exhausted and nothing else exists.

I only want to be loved. I only long to give love. But why do I long? Where does the longing rise from? Where is the switch? This knowing? This intensity? Where is this me that calls from beneath the shadows?

I measure everything. I place abstractness on scales. My actions are spared, as my thoughts have been filtered through and through, weighed out, analyzed, scrutinized…my actions don’t have a chance…they are absent…missing…vapors evaporating before they breathe.

Where do I travel? Where do I go? Why am I a lone wanderer on a planet that does not feel familiar and in a body and form I do not recognize? Why can I see others more clearly than my own self? And where do I stand? If I do not follow and do not lead, then where is my place in line?

Where is my reflection? Where do I find me. I cannot see me except through the eyes of another, and still this perception is so broken and shattered. And in my own mirror, I do not know this me. Everything in physical is not me. Every angle different and obscure. If I am not what I see and not what another sees, then what am I?

Am I my words? These symbols? These sounds? Am I energy? Am I flesh? Am I this still beating heart? Or am I more so this ache, this deep and unreachable ache. Yes, I am this ache. I am in totality this intense  ache.

So where to put me, this angst, this invisible pull that spins me into unwanted need and unneeded want. Where to put me?

Perhaps to the moon. Fly me to the moon, so I may be made whole. So that I may exist as an unmistakable mass dancing in empty space. My purpose only to move and stir. Paste me there. My image melted into one form. This searching ended. Paste me to the moon, so that I may watch from above and you may watch from below; and then we can both, from where we exist, imagine the world of the image before us.