"I just found out that my chosen pen name, Elizabeth, means "Strength Seven Times, Complete" in Hebrew. I can't describe what that does for my spirit!!"
KISS ME, MOON 9/26/96
There will be an eclipse
of the moon tonight -
the last one
of this millennium!
That sounds so huge
so ominous!
I hear the moon will be
an eerie, reddish, orange
here on the West Coast -
I can't wait to see it.
The moon has been such
a powerful force in my life.
I knew it followed me
as a child;
I believe it still does.
We play hide and seek
through the leaves
like lovers in a game;
and then
when there's an opening,
I'll turn to see him
smiling down at me
holding out his arms
for me to rush into his embrace!
I look up in wonder
and beg him to come nearer
and sometimes
I feel he does.
My heart beats faster
in the pull.
The sky has been calling me
all day.
At dusk, I sat on the steps
and watched the clouds
pouring over the city
like an invading army -
mammoth soldiers
dwarfing the skyscrapers
of San Francisco.
As I watched, one long, thin cloud
became a glistening sword
as the sinking sun
set its ribbon-like shape
on fire;
bright and shining
against the darker,
advancing troops.
In a trance of wonder,
I could feel
the clouds rushing at me
til I was dizzy -
clouds consuming me
and rushing over
and through me
and into my soul,
breathed larger,
split open,
engorged with fire
and wind and the passion play
of nature.
I love the feeling
of smallness in the face
of grandeur -
of the moon;
of the clouds; the sky,
the giant expanse;
of time, a millennium.
Deep calls to deep
and my smallness
smiles
to be part of this
something bigger.
My soul, bursting,
stretches its arms
to embrace the world.
Kiss me, Moon!
Kiss me, Sky,
advancing army!
Kiss me, Sun-splattered,
silver sword of a cloud!
Kiss me, Time!
Lie in the grass
and feel the heartbeat
of Time.
Wonder if a millennium
from now
a young girl
will lie in the grass,
will blow kisses to the sky,
will be teary-eyed at the beauty
of the Moon over a field
or burning eerie, reddish orange
over the West Coast
of America.
Will it be America?
Did people a millennium ago
imagine me
daydreaming,
unwinding my soul
in the clouds?
Kiss me, Moon!
Smile, my Heart,
at the vastness
of it all!
Elizabeth Aire (copyright 1996)
Johnny with the bodacious burgandy hair
is making pizzas at Golden Boys in Northbeach
Talk of poetry and politics fills the air
Literature captures our imaginations
We drink Red Tail Ale and debate and flirt
In walks a street woman to wash in the bathroom
An odor surrounds her as she moves past
I catch a glimpse of rows and rows of yellow teeth
We feel superior because it hurts to empathize
We're all young and strong and have jobs and dreams still
Chatter stops when she comes back through the room
She's invading the comfort of our intellectually elite mood
She comes toward me, asking for a cigarette
She leans against the stool, so close I can feel her breath
I hurriedly reach for a smoke, I just want her to leave
She stops - She's standing so close
She starts to sway - She starts to croon
I'm frightened
Aretha Franklin sings "Pink Cadillac" on the jukebox
The woman at my side is harmonizing
In a powerful, robust, aching voice she sings
and I am mesmerized
I tentatively sing the melody
and she reaches for my hand
Her tiny, gnarled hand holds my polished and manicured fingers
and there's no one else around -
We're making music and she calls me "Sister"
She's no longer scary and ugly and scarred
She's a woman I want to know more about
I listen as she tells me stories
Her name is Lila Fae Hancock and I tell her
she's Sassy, Saucy, Smart...
and Soulful, she adds
We sing some more, arms around eachother
When the chairs are being stacked on the tables
I walk her to the door - She reaches up with one hand
on each side of my face and kisses my cheek
She says, "You're the first person that's shown me any love"
My eyes sting and I feel I've been touched by an angel
I've never seen her again, though I've looked
I sink into quiet memories when self-righteous talk
moves to the homeless
Somewhere out there is a woman with a beautiful voice
Who called me "Sister" and kissed me
and for a moment I loved her
I wonder if she remembers
1994, Elizabeth Aire (copyright 1994)
Awaiting a response
Not sure what I want to hear
Did I say too much?
I struggle with boundaries
Should I keep more inside?
Stay quiet?
A child, until she's learned
will freely speak her mind
Say whatever she feels
Naked honesty and big doe eyes
No fear of rejection
She'll boldly rock the boat
Unable to perceive
the fragile balance of adult
Sensitivity
Eventually she becomes aware
of eyes turned away
little gasps and muffled voices
"We don't talk of such things"
Remnants of childhood cling to me
Still scared of the dark, frightened of spiders
Still far too honest
I speak my mind and watch people cringe
Too simple for duplicity
I stumble and trip on social graces
More at home in the world of Narnia
Winnie-the-Pooh and Toys-R-Us
I lay my soul bare on the page
Adult pains and a child's candor
I wait for a response
Sure I've said too much
I burn at the thought of honesty
seeming vulgar
When will adults learn from babes
to cry when they're hurt
or scream when they're angry?
For years I've wanted to be grown-up
Now I'm not too sure
They refuse to heal because
it's not polite to share
I'll refuse to be polite
because to heal, I Have to share
Too old to straddle the line
If maturing means squelching feelings
or smiling when I want to cry
or only speaking of safe subjects
I'll choose to be a child
and squeal with delight when I'm happy
or wail when I am sad
Elizabeth Aire (copyright 1994)