By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo

 

THE clouds hid the glittering sky for two days. I am without the moon, the mesmerizing ball of calm that shares its existence with the trees, the leaves and the flowers in the garden, most of all to me, kissing my heart. You are silent, my moon, speak to me, in the language of the wind. Silence used to comfort, now it is disturbing.  It’s dark these days, and darker without your voice.

Child of the universe (20250212)

there, in the sky
you float, a pearl from the womb
of the universe, perhaps
formed from the intrusion
of a rock, swathed
in transparent, gossamer threads
inside a boundless celestial shell
plucked out by the wayward wind
or pushed out by the gentle force of love

Me, dancing (20230203)

It was I
not the leaves, dancing
with the wind
or the moon, shining
in the purple sky
It was I

February Moon (20200212)

It is as if, You
descended into hell
and tricked me into heaven

Fly me (20140131)

A short fiery ride
on your sinewy back
and your nimble feet
on a cliff of steep and shining rocks
and the depth of the blue sea
I hang on close to your heartbeat
steady in its rhythms
ready for the dash

Fly me to the peak
above the mist of mists
into the sands by the bay
to be washed away
into the hurried fusion
of tempestuous waves

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