Only Up From Here
I was born in the bramble,
the thicket and thorns.
Raised by the ivy,
the nightshade and hellebores.
I reside deep in the forest
where sunlight can’t reach.
My only friend
is the moss at my feet.
And my roots run deep
in the shadows where I creep.
I made my home in the understory,
but will that be my story
for the rest of my life?
How I long to see the sky
where the great owls fly.
So wind, lift me up—
uproot me from this soil,
all the pain and turmoil.
Take me up above the evergreen trees
where my feet can brush atop their canopies.
I’m finally free—
who I was meant to be.
Twisting and turning,
take me up,
up to the clouds,
far from the ground—
I can only hope it doesn’t hurt
on the way down.
L. K. Smith
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I loved you in my dreams
I dream of a place I’ve been before,
where the magpies sing their song,
the sun kisses the tree-topped mountains,
and the grasses grow so long.
The magpies beckon me to their home.
In the sky they swirl,
whispering secrets of hidden worlds,
secrets we don’t know.
I reach out—
and they disappear
into the air,
no burdens to bear.
Ghostly silhouettes in the sky,
my heart is on fire—
could I be so free,
and join their colony?
Do I have such animality inside of me?
There’s a place for me
in their society.
No outsiders there;
they gossip only of magical things,
and with a flap of the wings
they dispel all my fears.
They know nothing of greed;
they tell no lies.
It’s a shame I have limbs
that won’t dare to fly.
I’d rather have wings—
take me up to the sky.
With them, I’m not a weed among roses,
they notice good omens
and speak elegant prose.
They lift me up and away
to brighter days.
Could I please stay?
I don’t want to wake.
I find freedom in rain
they dance with it too
they call out to the thunder
their song is its muse
lightning strikes my soul
and their voices echo through.
And in them I see
all those I’ve loved before
flying with the magpies forevermore.
I’ll hold on as long as I can
for when I awaken,
I’ll be flooded with sorrow,
but tonight I soar—
Oh, how alive I am
in my dreams,
with the magpies and beautiful things.
Waking up will be the death of me.
L. K. Smith
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The Height of Summer
Weightless wings
can finally soar
summer sun
forevermore.
A rosy blush,
strawberry flush
summer sun
forevermore.
L. K. Smith
________________________________________________________________________
I lost you
I loved you in summer,
I lost you in fall.
When winter came
I felt nothing at all.
As spring blossoms bloomed,
there came a shift in the heart.
Then summer rushed in
and I'm back at the start.
L. K. Smith
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The Curmudgeon
You think of me a grump,
a curmudgeon of sorts,
finding no joy
in the forest I haunt.
But you see,
while I don’t enjoy the chatter of sparrows
or a feast in the hedgerows,
I find beauty in the secrets
no one else seems to know.
There’s solace in rain—
it drowns out the screaming,
the everyday reeling
of the humdrum
drumming in my mind—
I never feel so alive.
Do you think of me cruel,
safe from my room,
while others yearn
for the warmth of the sun?
They become so undone
in the blanket of grey,
while I wish the light away.
For the sun burns my eyes,
illuminating the disguise
I wear in the morning.
I don’t want to be seen
or perceived
for who I am,
but who I could be.
Is it so horrible
that I find delight
in the thunder that rumbles
throughout the night?
We have a kinship, me and the storms,
on appearance formidable,
but not without purpose;
we’re not careless.
I do care,
for the juniper and iris
that long to be quenched
after a summer of thirst.
Nevertheless,
I must confess,
there’s a darkness in me
others don’t often possess.
But it’s not without light;
thousands of stars—
constellations in my mind,
burning so brightly.
I connect the dots,
and I can see freely.
Is it not plain to see
in my anonymity
that what I truly seek
is the company
of the evergreen trees
and anemones?
There’s something so freeing in that,
not a thought to be had
as I ramble to the bramble
and confide in the pine.
I don’t dislike roses,
but, oh, the way ivy grows—
climbing all it can find,
like the thoughts in my mind
encompassing all
‘til they can’t be ignored.
It catches my eye
like the diamond raindrop
on the evergreen cypress
or the last autumn leaf
falling into place
before winter’s haste.
And at night,
when all is quiet,
there’s room for contemplation.
In the silence,
I can concentrate
on the beauty I create from wounds so deep.
I am calm
in the arms of the moon—
hearing the Earth orbit before me
I am set free
from the shadowless days;
it’s my escape.
'Til morning,
and a blackbird sings a happy tune.
Night turns to blue,
and I brace myself.
For the forecast is sunny.
Isn’t it funny how that makes me sad
where elsewhere in the forest
there’s fun to be had?
So hence, in essence,
I’m a grump.
A curmudgeon at best.
But do you see the beauty in things
others so carelessly forget?
L. K. Smith
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Hold On To Winter
Hold on to winter,
embrace it while you can.
For the snowflakes will soon be melted
into nothingness once again.
Icy lakes,
the cozy fireplace,
will soon be memories erased—
replaced by the summer sun.
Then you'll come undone,
scorched and scathed,
wishing days away,
wishing for rain
and cold nights to soothe the pain—
the solace you can't regain
until next year
when winter holds you close
once again.
L. K. Smith
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Autumn's Requiem
Autumn's song—
he sings to me,
chilly as his breath.
With a kiss of the cheek,
he sets me free,
then brings about his death.
L. K. Smith
________________________________________________________________________
Please don’t go.
Please don’t go.
Don’t leave me here alone—
it isn’t your time.
This can’t be right.
How could I have known
that some clumsy mistake
had been made by Fate?
Please don’t go—
take me with you.
I plead with the universe,
but my words are lost
in the swirling abyss.
I see you slipping,
you’re starting to fade—
can I slip too,
take my spirit away?
Into the night sky you go,
becoming one with the stars—
seeping into the cosmos,
returning to stardust.
I call out to you, hopelessly,
and you whisper goodbye
‘just for now, my friend’
I’m broken inside.
Now you’re made of the universe,
the sky, planets and galaxies.
And I see echoes of you,
as I connect the stars
with my shaking hand.
Can you see me too?
You’re out there,
aren’t you?
Days pass by so slowly,
and memories drown me.
I turn into a ghost—
an echo of who I used to be.
Maybe now I’ll slip
through a cracked door
and find you there once more.
But I’m left without hope
as the door slams closed.
Years from now,
when I meet my end,
I’ll see my house from above
as I slowly ascend.
Then meet you among the stars,
and I’ll beg once more.
Please don’t go.
But if you do,
can I come too?
L. K. Smith
________________________________________________________________________
There’s a place for you
Little flower in the blue,
I hope my words will comfort you.
You’re frozen, stuck in winter’s frost,
but you should know not all is lost.
Sunny days lie in wait,
to succumb to this is not your fate.
You will see, when your blossoms bloom,
you were never, ever doomed.
Little sapling in the rain,
you think you won’t feel joy again.
You see the mighty redwood trees,
and in their wake, you feel so weak.
Beneath it all, your roots are growing,
even though your leaves don’t show it.
Don’t believe all your doubts,
your leaves will surely touch the clouds.
And the forest floor will look so small
when you are above it all.
Little fledgling in the grass,
you should know this pain won’t last.
I know you’re feeling all alone,
but one day soon you’ll find your home.
In the nights of darkest blue,
when all the world seems after you,
look to the stars and the silver moon,
and you will know,
there’s a place for you.
L. K. Smith
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Rain’s Sweet Refrain
Oh, rain,
your sweet refrain
how it comforts me so
in the absence of hope.
You silence the noise
of the anxious mind
telling lies
and threatening goodbyes.
You tell me not to worry,
as you wash away the quarrels
that my mind conjures in the night.
How they bother me so,
but you make it alright.
So, oh, rain,
please don’t go.
The sun’s rays just aren’t the same
in the comfort of home.
I’m begging you.
Please come back—
wet my cheeks
so my tears aren’t alone.
L. K. Smith
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