#jessicarock

[jessicarockpoet]

poem: this isn’t a movie

we strode down the empty road,

confronting the sunset, big and bright,

like masked warriors taking to battle.

[jessicarockpoet]

poem: spring during a pandemic

silvery fish glide through clear water, daffodils unveil their sunny heads, fireflies make lanes in the sky, deer meet in quiet forests to mate.

nature never stops her forward motion: she is heard in every rushing river, every bird chirping in the trees, a caché of all things great and small.

[jessicarockpoet]

haiku: sunday afternoon

the darkest theater, hands clasped, eyes wide, I’m ready... let’s pretend we’re young.

[jessicarockpoet]

haiku: marie says

“like a parisian... the way you say, “”ouais ouais ouais,”” it’s remarkable.”

[jessicarockpoet]

poem: a living testament

you teetered on the edge, yelling, thrashing, bleeding into the crevasse, knowing one day you’d be enveloped.

(we had all but bid you adieu.)

yet, in the midst of anger and chaos, you took a step back, then another, then ran, full-speed, into this life.

(we couldn’t believe it.)

now, seven years after your almost-death, there are smiles, laughs, and well-wishes, surrounding you in a blanket of love.

[jessicarockpoet]

poem: cold january morning

dredge the voluptuous valleys, sweep the staggering peaks, raze the ragged fields.

the world is firm in her winter: everything must wither and die in order to live again.

[jessicarockpoet]

haiku: mérida with thad

how to feel alive: walk home barefoot, happily, baptized by the rain.

[jessicarockpoet]

poem: when you were tiny

serene and gorgeous stillness in the soft filtered afternoon sun... your mom must have stared long and hard, focusing on all your perfect features,

waiting for you to exhale,                                                          inhale,                                                                                   exhale, verifying your new baby lungs were capable.