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Ema Kenyon Poem
There are so many things
that I’d like to say
with my arms open like wings
and nothing in my way.
I’d scream out “I loved you!”
in the morning at one.
I’d look to the sky shining blue
and know that I’ve won.
I would smile real wide
and walk back real slow
to a place where I won’t have to hide
and nobody has to know.
That you were my everything,
and now you’re my nothing.
Copyright © Ema Kenyon | Year Posted 2017
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Ema Kenyon Poem
I have lost sight of you once again.
Frustrated, I search every nook, every corner, every crevice that you have been known to hide.
I call for you, but my efforts are to no avail.
Without you I am a creature without choice,
A wretch with no power to make change.
So I will wallow in the consequences of my absent minded nature, for i have forgotten where I left you.
It seems as though i am forced to reckon with watching this program on ABC family until i shrivel and choke,
and return to the soil.
Copyright © Ema Kenyon | Year Posted 2017
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Ema Kenyon Poem
I can feel the seemingly invisible shards creeping along my skin, cutting me like glass.
The presence of these creatures alone swallows me whole and leaves me restless.
I promised you and myself that i wouldn’t open the doors to allow them in again,
But here we lay unsettled, in the shadows of the broken and the fragmented that were left behind.
I’m sorry that I ate saltine crackers in bed again.
Copyright © Ema Kenyon | Year Posted 2017
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Ema Kenyon Poem
Since the very moment I beckoned for you,
I have been eagerly awaiting your arrival,
counting the days until your acquirement.
I have checked for you time and time again,
perhaps I am too hasty.
I am growing so wary,
as I can feel that you are running late.
The generosity of time is running thin.
The clock is no friend of mine.
It is Friday now, and I am told you have arrived.
But ay, my love, it is 5pm.
The post office is closed. I have to get my package on Monday.
Copyright © Ema Kenyon | Year Posted 2017
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Ema Kenyon Poem
To put it quite simply, I am tired of you.
You do not strike me as you once did,
fulfill me or bring me pleasure.
Though I keep you around only to appease my fixation,
You are no more than an ache in my jaw.
You have grown stiff,
lost your color.
You were once a winter breeze, cold and sweet.
Now you fight against me with bland and tasteless efforts.
I should really spit this gum out.
Copyright © Ema Kenyon | Year Posted 2017
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Ema Kenyon Poem
inherited
everlasting
bountiful
there is no
shining sun
because it is not
the sun’s turn
to shine.
instead these stars
glisten
and sparkle
from heavens
we stretch our arms
and faith
to touch
and shine down
on this earth,
this divine planet,
which houses the baby
who has already
inherited
the weight of the world
and it’s humans
and it’s human sins.
this manger feels
too soft,
too first-breath fresh
for me to not feel
the contrast
of a pure
and golden Son
against a cruel
and unforgiving
backdrop of crimes
of flesh and guts.
his mother is weeping,
tears of exhaustion
from hours of birth
and tears of joy
from being the mother
of the Savior,
and my heart crescendos
to see
a bruised and crying babe
amongst soft cascades
of gold
and frankincense
and myrrh.
joseph himself,
the father of the son
of the Father,
idles at the top
of the trough with a hand
on the top of
his first child’s head
and smiles at us
with a comforting sweeping gesture
meant to drive us closer.
my feet and
my soul
ache to crawl;
to fall to my knees
and drag myself to the edge
of the hay
littering
this impromptu church
and bow my head to
worship
the everlasting light
and love
and redemption
of my newborn Deliverer
jesus christ.
as i reach the edge
of this makeshift crib
i am blessed
upon blessings
to see the small upturn
of the messiah’s lips
as he finally
succumbs to the first slumber
of a righteous
and bountiful life
filled with whores
and betrayal
and forgiveness
and adoration so rich it pours
from his eyes
and his mouth
and his hands
to heal his people
and bring us joy
because our lord God
deigned us able to save,
if only we have the
heart to change.
and when his life ends,
blood dripping down an unrelentingly
strong brow from
beneath a crude crown of thorns,
hands and feet
impaled against cedar,
pine,
and cypress
grown upon,
within,
his Father’s
green earth,
this divine planet,
ribs broken open
by spears declared
the unrepentant
love and light and forgiveness
of the true Jehovah
and shined down on us
the shame and irony
of killing the man
meant to save us from
murder.
Copyright © Ema Kenyon | Year Posted 2017
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Ema Kenyon Poem
does it not feel
as though
the world
hovers between our lips,
magnetized poles
locking to each other
because that’s all they know,
as they touch?
does my hand on
your waist
not feel as though
it’s burning a hole through
your sweater
and your skin
to grasp onto your intestines
and tug?
does my breathless smile
as you pull away,
eyes still fluttering shut
and mouth still half open,
not twist your heart
and discontinue all thought?
do i,
with my messy rainbow glitter soul
and my pure intentions,
not rattle your faith
and make you question
your heaven?
do my opinions,
based on the divinity of love
and loving,
not broaden your thinking
and expand your mind?
does my strength,
inherited through generations
of oppression
and invalidation,
scare you?
am i more than you can handle?
good.
i was not borne of fire
and swords
to conquer hearts
or souls.
i was borne of pain
and rejection
and rose from those ashes
not untouched but certainly unscathed
to seek happiness and joy
in all things
that bring light to the world.
i was borne of sadness and uncertainty
and carry these
in a corner of me
people have the audacity
to call my sleeve.
i am unapologetic
for this bright white light
that shines from me
and i do not weep
for those who fail
as they try to block it out.
Copyright © Ema Kenyon | Year Posted 2017
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Ema Kenyon Poem
i pile pillows high
on the right side of the bed
hoping that in the morning
you won't be in my head.
and when i wake
and all these pillows are deflated
i'll burrow deeper still
and think of all the times i've ever waited
for you to make a choice
and tell me so;
do i get to keep you,
or do i let you go?
like last summer
when we really first began,
you told me that you
could no longer hold my hand.
"we argue too much"
that's what you said.
a second time we've seen this place,
a second time i lay in bed.
maybe i will think about
late nights in your dark car
and our whispered nothings
that drove our love so far.
perhaps the sweetened moments
when you fingers touched my bare skin.
but while i still feel goosebumps,
all you feel is sin.
most of all i will remember
the small moments that you kept.
i thought of these for long days after;
my heart and i both wept.
from long-life plans
to squandered goals
hopefully when i wake
my heart will be half full
because you said forever
and it tore me apart,
it hurt so bad
i swear i was dying,
when you told me that
you don't want
to love me anymore
as if our love was
a speed bump in your path
to divine understanding
and acceptance
but all the understanding in the world
cannot equate the loss
of your soul
next to my soul
on this long train ride
of hard labor and
tireless dreams
that keep me awake
when i should be next to you.
now your seat is empty,
so is my bed,
and i am lucky to find you no longer
saying i love you in my head.
Copyright © Ema Kenyon | Year Posted 2017
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Ema Kenyon Poem
Look, okay,
I didn’t ask for this life.
I didn’t ask for this drama,
I didn’t ask for this strife.
Would you stop yelling,
stop asking of me?
If I put to it an end
and let this world be?
What do you want from me,
sitting tall and transparent?
Don’t echo their questions,
you lackluster parrot.
My heart, it beats free,
to no specific thump of a drum.
My mind doesn’t whir,
it’s a constant dull hum.
My life isn’t ordinary,
it is a constant test.
Do I look good in blood red
or a funeral dress?
The wounds have all healed,
old she is far behind.
Don’t worry, my friend,
when she’s caught I’ll be kind.
It’ll come back,
all in due time.
Maybe when I relapse
I won’t be afraid to try.
But for now, my friend,
my love, my soul;
be kind to them all
and watch out for poles.
Copyright © Ema Kenyon | Year Posted 2017
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Ema Kenyon Poem
jitters
lexicon
reflection
good morning!
and it IS a good morning!
the sun, as always in its
inexplicable radiance
and deplorable warmth,
is rising slowly,
illuminating first our fence,
my nightstand,
your hand
where it rests,
warm,
in the middle of my back;
and you, as always in your
brand-new-day smile
and messy hair,
are opening your eyes
slowly,
like a twin emerald reflection
of the me i love
the most,
reminding me first of the trees
back home when spring has
first sprung,
granny smith apple peels
piled in my sink as
i make pie,
your hand,
warm,
where it rests
in the middle of my back.
this perfumed
lexicon
i throw at you
softly,
petals dropped
from new-skin hands
onto wedding-day aisle floors,
stretches planet-wide
and still cannot even
begin
to divulge the extent
of my devotion for you
or explain the torn
and bloodied
remnants
of my heart
in a way that expresses
my true intention:
to give that heart
to you.
and you lay here,
head beside mine on your pillow,
body entwined with mine beneath this quilt,
hand warm on the middle of my back,
smiling at me
while you take my hand
as if it still turns your heart
to realize
i'm shaking
like i've got the Virginity Jitters
when you weave your fingers
between mine and pull them close
to kiss them;
you smile at me with that
brand-new-day smile
as if you are ready to take on the world
because today
has forgotten yesterday
and the defeat it holds;
you open your eyes --
jade pools mirroring memories
of the pond at my grandmothers farm,
the foliage my mother wove around
her backyard the day
she swore eternity
to a man who loves her more
than breathing,
my kindergarten class on
st. patrick's day --
slow at first but fluttering now,
to murmur a "good morning"
and flash your dimples
as you bury the side
of your head further into
y(our) pillow;
and your hair resembles art --
too long, too dark, too tangled,
splayed across this baby blue pillow sheet
like ink scribbled into the sky
that is waking up
alongside us.
Copyright © Ema Kenyon | Year Posted 2017
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