The Solstice

My tender limbs seek relief.

Not from a foretime’s impetuous work weeding the beds,

A different, deep, enthralling ache bellows from my core.

I only long to be with him.

To laugh, beam in a concert of rapture,

Indubitable joy in hewed lines on our faces,

Burrow tight dancing to phantom music,

Sit under a canopy of magnolia inspirit with sweet fragrance,

Touching fingertips, softly embracing possibility.

Such afternoon of unencumbered bliss,

A yearning so urgent,

My lashes wet with anticipation.

Yet, there is pause.

Does his mental palace brim with equal urgency,

Thus grounds for the sudden stir within me?

If an invisible tie should bind,

Where shall I find reprieve?

Truth portrays brighter than fiction.

Maybe this is nothing,

Perhaps he is everything,

The solstice awaiting our return.



The early dawn speaks in moody color

Awakening with a recollection of my lunar mother

As she flew to my throat, this master of disguise

Determined to soften, to illuminate a vernal path of light

Wealth in blind faith, I will follow.


Nocturnal luster flutters forth, and I can see clearer now

Enchantment from the shadow depths

Change is apparent as I question purity at hand

Intuitive birth beginning from a mere thought

Wealth in blind faith, I do follow.


Spoken words from within rising to my lips

A collective emerges

Under the velvet moon we rise, voices void of sound, rich in color

Drawing innermost shadows to the canvas

Wealth in blind faith, we follow.


Searching for balance and beauty, a portal sought

In realms of truth and trust

Passage to where though? dare I ask

Uncertainty reigns under the velvet moon

But wealth in blind faith, I still follow.


~Sonya M. Fitzmaurice