Upon My Death

 Can you not grant me just this wish?

To wring the fruit 'til no drop is left

and let us be and breathe and grieve

this heart grown weary of breath after breath--

can you not give one dream to me?

To be remembered and loved upon my death.

I am every leaf

each blade of grass

wings seeking

seed sprouting

rain tempos

birds quieting

from this stillness

arose every music.

4 Poems

"Drown"

We are taking on too much water, so
I am plunging the ore between the planks of the boat
and prying them apart.

I am sinking this ship into the sea.
I wouldn't call the choice very easy
but it is plain to me
the hull is rotting.

I was hoping to get a decade in
before the weather took her down
but then, the splitting crack of frame,
the sail lost near rocky shore--
she ran aground,

Abandon ship, abandon--
our heart, our lives, we drown.



"Untitled"

Look at this, the thread unraveling,
your prophecy, self-fulfilling.
Look at us, our rock, eroding.



"Might"

This inner violence becomes me.

Don't forget that I am ten feet tall
and forged in fire, an iron knight.

Do not forget I wield a blade half my size
and twice my might.

Do not mistake the love I gave--
It was truer than the truest soul--
Fiercer than the greatest wind--
Deeper than Poseidon's throne--

Don't mistake my need for you
as the air I need to breathe.
You've driven me away enough,
and now, I set you free.



"Ten Feet Tall"

Good. I hope you always feel ten feet tall
and never this small.

I hope you know your heart is worth a hundred hearts
and a hundred loves to be.

I've found it doesn't help to hurt in love,
it truly helps to see

when another's heart is too small to give
ten feet of love to me.

Mountain

It's not the feeling

but the image it evokes

mountains of dormant, unencumbered fog

stretching into the white rooftop of the world

solitude, a foundation

to grow the tallest

sprawl into the space allowed, unrequesting--

those attracted to the independence of another

are not looking for softness or knowable darkness, but seeking

a mountain.

All Forests / Flotsam

"All Forests"

Hello.
I don't know you.
I don't know people.
What tribes, what living quarters?
I want to live there --
How am I supposed to find such a connecting force?
Let awe inspire us.
Let awe fulfill us
that we might see the great trees of all forests.

* * *

"Flotsam"

how far drifted have I?
I am flotsam
and you seemed like an anchor
of some kind--

there is this legend, this mythology
that I am mad, desperate or crazy
but really, I've been impaled so many times
the spear has become me--

I don't mean to offend or deceive--
I don't trust you,
but I have you inside me.

Cottage

That little cottage sitting on a hill,
overlooking what once was a silver place,
where moonlight guided all of the spirits to their destinations.


That little cottage
which stands lonely now,
abandoned by the Wind.
Only silence has come to claim it,
as a fading breath
slips from the windows
and through the cracks in the floor,
lying mute and pervasive in that dark place,
in the shadows behind chairs,
in the cracked foundations of the heart.


The closet door stands open,
the only words left in this house, telling me
You once shut this door on yourself 
and lived here, in all the hidden corners of a child's closet– 
I was the doll.
This the paper castle in which I lived my Night.


~TL Shreffler

Grow

I want to grow graciously outward,
To leave behind the Riverbend,
To drop what I can do without,
Come quietly to myself again.

I want to riddle up and secret down,
Do more than simply long to go,
I want to find that tune in me
To strengthen strings and follow flow.

I want to find a sacred song,
An answered prayer, a name and verse--
By seeking you, I seek myself,
And so, your love I follow first.

Moon

Light is not a natural place
for those who set their roots in darkness.

Some of us have lived in winter for so long,
Spring is the most torturous bloom.

The night swallowed us.
Still, we found the moon.

~TL Shreffler

Grove

I walk through the forest where
He is still waiting, there
In the deep woods, a statue overgrown
With moss. I can still kneel
And brush my fingers across
The clay cleverness
Of an aged face
Weathered by all seasons -- Love,
The sacred grove remains.

Lift

She was wolf girl in the lift,
Powerful and free.
Nothing but her will, her body,
The weight, lifting,

Stress on muscles, straining--
Teeth grit through the midst of it,
Freeing

All the pain, courageous, she
     always preferred to feel --
a freeing breath --
         -- release.

Wildflowers

I love poetry like wildflowers,
     no single standard.
Can you imagine living
     that anonymous life by the roadside?
What if that flower became a woman
     and one day walked to market
         in the heat of bustle and bees,
and saw all the human varieties,
     no single standard?


 -T. L. Shreffler

I don't know where the flowers run anymore,
I don't know where the brick path leads.
Once, I searched for bottles on a deserted shore--
I knew well where sky and ocean would meet--

But our certainty crumbles like sand over time,
We live as things are, not how they should be,
And all our right paths turn left in the end,
Or dead-end at a pondersome sea.

So I don't know anymore why the willows grow tall,
Why the skylark calls, why the sunset bleeds.
I really can't say what I want from this world,
But the world will always have me.

Quiet, Beautiful

June 1st, 2018

Quiet, beautiful

Back to the road where the tower waits

Back to the gray mountains

Back to the dead plains

Back to the mist where he kept you

Back to the throne where you slept

Back to the frost windows, the curtains drawn, the poison drank, the skin cold, the gums white,

the blood dried, the door cracked--

Go

She escaped for a time, she did

Go

but she couldn't

Go back

Who are we, but a voice
singular and powerful,
a letter written to the stars
 of a civilization wandering--
the lonely soul of a planet, drifting--

Cemetaries

From a young age, I loved cemeteries.
Their smell, the fresh cut grass,
     (in the old kingdom, always a layer of dew or frost)
the endless mystery of named stones
stretching far away. I wanted to run deep into
those woods and find the lost tomb of Annwn
that stood like a gateway, a pyramid—
     (In the old kingdom, it led to the white land
      where fairies roamed)
—where treasure was buried—and a legacy—
a family affair.

Wherever you are....

March 14th, 2018

I hope wherever you are
The sky is far deeper and more expansive
The clouds are far lower and vast and full of moods
The grass is tall enough to touch your palms
And the music is so much greater
Swelling through the firmament of the storm and building into your soul
Wherever you are, that music, that love, that spirit,
I hope you know.

~T. L. Shreffler

Railroad

March 13th, 2018

So what is it?

What are the train tracks?

What is the railroad?

What is

The roaring sound in the background

Growing behind you, spreading in front of you, building to the second it finds you --

What is that screaming steel running through you?

Perhaps it is you.

~T. L. Shreffler

Tomb / Light

"Tomb"

Here is the tree where the tomb rested,
and here are the roots where I've been asleep;
deep you must go to find your peace.
Only in safety will the past release itself.
Only in layers do we reveal our true selves,
our true hearts, not to be healed,
but to be inspected and adored
like stained glass bottles, salt-worn,
under caring fingertips: delicate, distorted, brilliant.

* * *

"Light"

I need the days to be brighter and longer.
I need the sun to stay upright.
I need the warmth, the bond, the touch, the caress, the light.

Northwestern Summer Rain

March 16th, 2018


Suddenly I can smell the grass after a Northwestern summer rain.
Early afternoon, open window,
crisp golden air
the sunlight slanting over her shoulder
onto the pages of a book
as she reads, her mind in mystery
the floor is deep mahogany
a sense of permanency
a garden, a roof, a memory
of apple trees.


~T. L. Shreffler

Spin

It was a pattern we fell into,
me and you.

You’d say something to bait me;
coming from you,
it was easy.

Eventually, I acted
only to provoke you, and neither of us knew
how to rein the other in, so we would
spin spin spin.

Even young, I had a name
and you miscalled it again, again
so I would fight for you to see me as I am.
You moved like a propeller.
I would push and you would pull; together,
ever ever ever
we would spin spin spin.