I've Never Loved

by
BD Hudison

I've never loved
  (like I've loved)
I've never taken
  (like I've taken)
Waiting on a cracked corner to travel -
far away the cries of freedom slowly burn and die.
They leave me - always leaving - always just packing up and moving on.
But here I stand - I stay - like a block of cement.  I'm attached to this ground - to this place - to everything around me that seems like it won't be here tommorow.
I've never loved... a place... as much as I do this.

The Remembering

by
BD Hudison

You may be.  Gone right now.  But I can feel.  Your soft skin.  Empty kiss.  My heart follows.  The rhythm of the thunder as broken.  Eyes.  Look down upon me.  You.  Not us.  You've already left.  And I'm left.  With.  The remembering.

The Traveler

by BD Hudison Door to door - soul to soul. Travelling without asking, the seeker of searching. The creator of moments, good and bad. The provider for time, take it or leave it. Light footsteps move with ease on the rough ground. What comes from sight and touch can come from what's inside. To burn is to live, to shiver is to die. To wait... is simply life. For the traveler will always come, but will always go.

What Wants All

by BD Hudison What wants all is what isn't known. Let the touch take you. Make you. Break you. What wants all is wanted. It can get you. Taste. Soft. Lost. What wants all is to want nothing. Everything comes within. It's there. Seek. What wants all.

Love Never Forgets

by BD Hudison While movement may continue and while life inhales and exhales and while good mixes with bad and bad becomes great and great never exists, love never forgets. It's the shadow you chase while the sun chases you. It's the shadow you never see while the sun eats your eyes. It's the first flower of Spring popping up only to be eaten by a blade. Oh, and the air, the aroma, the fresh ideas. . . that love never forgets. I can say that the sky was darker when you left, but that would be a lie. I can say that the breeze was that of a hurricane, but it wasn't. It was gentle. It took the corner of my shirt and tugged it. I turned from the deadly sun and began to chase my own shadow. . . back to you. . . because love never forgets.

For Her

by BD Hudison Mary kept her head down, hood up, and the shoes tucked in her coat as she raced through the small crowd. She tried her best not to mumble too loud, she didn’t want to attract attention. Attention was bad. Attention would send her home. Alone. With the shoes. They’d say he’s gone. She’d say he wasn’t. Some would feel bad. Some would cry. Some would laugh and point. She told herself they were the ones who didn’t understand love but that didn’t help much. No matter what words were said or whether everyone laughed or cried, she was still alone. Until he came back. __ “There’s something at the water.” “What?” “There’s something at the water. A person.” Sandy jumped off the cold rail and turned to see what Bill was talking about. He was right. There was a person on the beach. “Yea, there is,” she said turning around. “I’m cold. Come here.” Sandy pulled Bill in close and wrapped her arms around him. “It’s so cold out here. Who would be at the water like that?” “I don’t know,” Sandy replied. “You don’t think. . .” “Think what?” “That it’s Mary?” Sandy pushed off of Bill. “Mary’s not real Bill. That’s an old kids story to keep them away from the water.” “But look,” Bill said pointing, “she’s got a pair of shoes on her feet and a pair next to her.” “So you’re telling me that’s Mary? The Mary whose husband went into the water for a swim while she read a book. The Mary whose husband never came out of the water again. The Mary who went crazy and took his shoes and is said to keep going back to the water until he comes out?” Bill nodded staring at the person on the beach. “Fine, let’s find out,” Sandy said grabbing Bill’s hand. __ Mary shivered with the stingy breeze coming off the water. She held her ground though. She told herself it was just demons trying to get to her to leave so they could take Tom. They’d never take Mary’s Tom. Her love for him was too great. And it wasn’t possible that someone could just go for a swim and never return. Nope. They told Mary that seven years was long enough. They told Mary that if she kept it up, she’d have to go somewhere else to stay. She smiled and said she’d stop. It was a lie and she hated lying. But she loved Tom more and vowed to wait forever. __ “Sandy, please don’t,” Bill cried. “Are you scared?” Bill blushed a little and followed Sandy. “Excuse me,” Sandy said in a nice voice. The woman on the beach looked up. Her hand shot out and grabbed the shoes in the sand. “No, it’s okay,” Sand said. “I’m sorry to trouble you but I have a silly question.” The woman nodded. “Are you Mary?” The woman tilted her head. “I mean, you know, Mary. The story about the woman who waits for her husband that drowned? That Mary.” The woman just stared. “Come on Sandy, let’s go,” Bill whispered. The woman lowered her head and started to sob. “Oh my, I’m sorry,” Sandy said reaching out for the woman. The woman slapped Sandy’s hand away. Then she looked out to the water and smiled. “I’m sorry for hitting you dear,” the woman said, “but I have to go now.” Sandy and Bill watched in awe as the woman walked into the frigid water holding the shoes high in the air. __ Mary hated to be bothered. Even worse, she hated being about who she was. It was always younger people too. There were always stories about her. They said she was crazy. They said she wasn’t real. They said she was dead. But why didn’t she realize how much she loved her Tom? As the girl spoke she heard something at the water. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him. She saw Tom. He was there. He bobbed up and down with the weak waves and he smiled. He opened his arms and motioned for Mary to come to him. Mary stood and with tears in her eyes she walked into the water holding Tom’s shoes high in the air. She wanted to make sure they didn’t get soaked. She was going to kiss him and then bring him back to land. Then they’d stop calling her crazy and finally understand her love for her Tom.

There is.

by BD Hudison There is beauty in the -a metal post in a field- drop of dew (if you look) There is beauty in the -poke for worms- smile of her face (if you look) There is horror in the -pray for sun- carnival music -is there knowing- Where do hey come from? -in the unknown- Where do they go? Shadows and sounds liven the skies. . . There is.

Love (Heart)

by BD Husidon

There’s a chunk of my heart left in your hand – but you don’t see it. You probably lost it. Is the forbidden kind of love so bad? To try? The best kind of love is the forever kind. Can forever be silent? Can love be watched? Can I get my chuck of heart back? Can I have a piece of yours?