We forgot to go to sleep
so we walked to the beach
and let the looping cicada songs
tuck us into the night
You asked me what you look like
Under the new moon
indigo night
some offshore storms tremble
in their own dark
We counted the waves
until the breath of ocean
became white noise
I unfolded the maps of your heart
and charted longitudinal lines of loss
to the edge of each constellation
I named stars
after all of your scars
and then we laughed as they twinkled
because then your pain
became the most beautiful light
we’d seen in a long time
Do you know what you look like?
Your face is poetry
your heart-shine is a meteor shower of cosmic grace
the sky blushes
at the atmospheric conspiracy of your smile
and when you’re in motion
the tide tilts toward the beauty of your being
And you are enough
you are enough
you are enough
Enough, Laura Totten, 2016
Atmospheric physics is the study of the phenomenon of clouds. If this isn’t poetry, I don’t know what is. Clouds are created through a modest dichotomy of radiation balances and energetic transfers. They form when rising air cools to the point where some of the water molecules join together faster than they are torn apart. Some of that invisible water vapor condenses to form visible droplets. After cloud droplets form, one of two things happen: either they collide with each other and grow by joining together to such a large size that they fall to the ground as rain, or they evaporate. On average, only one-half of all cloud formations come to fruition and fall to the earth as raindrops. The other half re-evaporate back into the atmosphere.
Love is precarious in this same way. A serendipitous collision followed by a synergetic dance. Then a fifty-fifty chance of synchronization or vaporizing. Not good odds, but worth it every time.
excerpt from Creation Myth, Laura Totten, 2011
When we’re young
our hearts curl quietly in our chest
the small bird of this muscle
struggling to fly
until it catches on something larger than itself
When we’re young
the world is understood in dichotomies
darkness and light
silence and sound
monsters and miracles
faith in these things ordering each day
until we’re shown the possibility of in-between
When I was young
the stars were quiet messes
unpinned from constellations
winking on and off at me
as they tried to find their way home
the moon was hollow
the bellybutton of the sky
an umbilical cord to my dreams that kept my star shine secrets
Some nights
the maps of my palms
lead me in circles
I add landmarks to my lifelines
but I’m still surprised by how often I’m lost
like the little girl of myself
folded clothes and some crackers into a pillowcase
and ran away with the spoon
Some nights
the compass of my heart fails me
the moon wanes
the bird of my chest rests quiet
Still
I can’t keep from falling in love
every day
with fear
involuntary tears
shadows, edges
with tonight
with the divinity of this moment
with your face
with the grand pianos of your chest
patiently waiting the hammer
to thrump the finely wound chords of your heartstrings
to resonate undampered
unstrung
unpinned
undone
because some nights we find
the birds of our heart
wild and hungry
unsure of flight
collaging together the courage
to quake open our wings
so that
especially in this darkness
you can’t help but let
the noise of your life
fill the church of your body
which becomes a holy song
becomes the star shine
becomes the space between the darkness
becomes the beauty that is you
and this nebular deity of your stunning self
holds in one hand the little kid of your heart
holds in the other an umbilical cord to the moon
makes a mess of this string of events called life
and walks head high
audaciously
a bird released into the darkness
to shine
Shine, Laura Totten, 2017
