At The Park (10-17-10)
by Ariel Westberg
A low-slung mist
Stultifies the LA sunscape, setting the stage to play the part
Of a rainforest’s cupola.
But rain doesn’t come
Even though I am ready.
Boots and sweater, and a nameless heartache to accompany
Hibernation at times suits me,
But these days, these years,
I can ill-afford the luxury
Of wallowing, of pining, of yearning.
Today, through the trenches of a familiar yet unknown abyss,
I cradle myself, filled with
A boundless love,
As intricate and vast as the
Stuff of dreams.
A runner, springy and supine, passes me as I sit.
I feel catatonic but my soul,
A burbling brook, coos and
Joyously knows the routes of the gods.
Knows the loving hands that hold me like a child holds a love-worn doll,
Perfectly beautiful to eyes
That have seen all its years,
Limbs gone missing,
Hair brushed out of its head,
A marble eye rolled down a drain,
Smudges that have turned to stains forever.
I am loved that way.
Ariel Westberg is a poet and singer-songwriter from Los Angeles. She attended the Evergreen State College and Cornish College of the Arts in Washington State where she studied writing, classical composition and vocal jazz. She has been writing poetry, drawing, and singing since she was a small child. Writing has always been her first love. Her work has appeared in various poetry publications and she is currently writing a childrens’ novel.