A Divergence: Poetry

I used to write poetry all the time, every day. Every waking moment I managed to pen something into a notebook, on a scrap of paper, on my old online journal. I did slam poetry in Omaha, and I poured out my heart in classrooms. I even once recorded a poem on video, sending it to the beloved recipient. But this venue, my "Jewish" blog, has never been one where I felt comfortable expressing myself outside myself. So here we are. Part 1 in a hopeful multi-post series. 

There's Something in My Eyes

Few places can I find peace of me
Spaces away from where the world outside spins,
Top speed topsy turvy, while I stand,
or sit, still and calm with dusty eyes
and sandy cheeks.

The static of streams, tiny drops dripping
down in systematic streaks, landing, circling
the drain, lost in a tube to tomorrow.
So I drizzle my loofa like a giant cinnamon roll,
toying with the taste of soapy sweets,
while the walls melt from steam, heat, from
standing still for minutes, hours. It all streams
together, and dusty eyes stay still despite
moisture.

Engine rolling, radio on off, then on
with lyrics loud and reverberating, matching
heart beats and the steady sound of
breathing. Quietude, solitary, being alone
with the hum crossing rhymes with voices
streaming from speakers.

Peace of mind, peace of me. Even when
I sleep there is little time for thinking,
fears slopped onto subconscious walls.
Few places can I find peace of me, so
I stand, or sit, with dusty eyes and
sandy cheeks.