Confluence

Poem © 2013 by Joyce Mason 

All Rights Reserved

I did not choose you, Sacramento.
You chose me,
a con job
I never saw coming.

You drew me with lust and lover
a promise of gold
bigger life
hot sun
opportunity.

Something much more was gathering
beneath the churning surface
drifting gently
floating me on your two rivers of change

I did not know then
the Native American concept
tinkuy
the harmonious meeting of opposing forces
pain and pleasure
sending me toward miracles, reunions
transcendence

in the Sacramental City
the place where the rivers
of all that was right and wrong
in my life merged:

confluence.

~.~.~ 

In celebration of the 40th anniversary of my move to Sacramento, California on May 9, 1973.  Sacramento is the Capital of California on the Sacramento and American Rivers.

Photo Credit:  Ziggurat and Tower Bridge in Sacramento at Sunset © Andy – Fotolia.com 

Between

Poem © 2013 by Joyce Mason
All Rights Reserved

This dark place

between lives:

I live here too often

mutating

 waiting for the rebirth of

who I am

what I do

how I see myself

hoping I don’t come out

a freak

or worse

don’t come out at all

stuck in lost.

The darkness is a closet

without the dimmest light

not even the long dirty string

of my childhood wardrobe.

Barely a walk-in

it’s cramped to overflowing

with things that no longer

fit me.

Old masks line

the dirty walls

with chipping paint.

My discomfort
with uncertainty

mounts:

 nothing new in sight

no Goodwill Store

with cheap make-do's

to carry me though

my latest transition.

No wonder

I don’t want to come out

of the closet

naked.

From this place of withdrawal

I fight the demon depression

hoping for enough strength

to beat him down.

I channel Jackie Chan

ducking karate chops

to my solar plexus.

I limbo dive

under the pitchfork.

I see depression’s beady red eyes

smell the sulfur.

He offends everything

I stand for.

Talking to myself

my words

stun me.

Maybe there’s nothing

to stand for.

Maybe it’s time

just to sit …

… to sit and contemplate

what I want to do and be

 in the last act

of my life

shelving the shoulds or dreams

I have outgrown

or the closets

full of clothes so out of style

they’re a welcome moment

of comic relief.

Maybe I should sit

and contemplate

the real me

the naked me

and what it would take

to streak down Main Street

wind in my hair

living not in-between

but right in the moment.

~.~.~

Photo Credit: © deviantART – fotolia.com

Don't forget to check out Astro-Poetry month during April on The Radical Virgo! Learn about all the poetry that's going on in the sky.