(Written by my mentor and best friend James Rogers April 3rd, 1946-October 6th, 2009)
Elusive love, you call to me
like brown skin called Gauguin.
For colors unknown, of fish and flower
and breasts so unashamedly bare,
he abandoned everything.
Where is my Teha’amana, now that all
has been explored? A face that begs
my brush loose its beauty on the world,
polished like the finest silver, my redemption
in her Mona Lisa smile.
I can tell by your eyes that I have asked
the wrong questions. As the leaves
fall from the trees near the creek,
as silently as you look at me, as surely
as winter approaches, we both know
you are not the one.
I will wait like a freshly dug grave
and dream of starfish,
while birds search out tiny morsels in the
upturned earth of this damp redwood forest
that leads down to the sea.
A multitude of crows turn the cold sky to night,
blocking even the crescent moon
with the sound of their wings.
I am old now and spring may not come again.
The Eyes Of Jehovah ~ By James Rogers 2009