Dry Bones


In the Fall
My dreams burst forth
Mimicking the trees
As they danced and shone
Enrobed, as they were,
In their lustful reds
And happy golds

And I watched
As they too fell
One by one
And turned brown
With decay
Then came a cool wind
And the sound
As they rattled up and away
…like so many dry bones
Clanking with glee

The beauty
That anguish
Will momentarily bring
The impact of every sense
More profound
Like the fire of a star
Burning brightest
With its last breath.

-LM Jones


Leah of The Meadow


“She slept with wolves
Without fear
For the wolves knew
A lion was among them.”

Leah means weary
A name with a curse
Named for a woman of ancient times
She was always second choice

You may feel pity for her
But the story is happy in the end
Leah is blessed above Rachel
And becomes mother to the nations

Leah, bone-tired
how familiar those depths
Laced with premonition
And yet, a gift to discover

For there’s another meaning
“Of the meadow”
Blessed by nature
Healed by her light

Child of the meadow
This title, I shall claim
Never destined for the shadow
Kissed by the sun and baptized in rain.

-LM Jones
(Quote: RM Drake)

Something True


The sun is bright today
After an eternity of clouds and rain
A choice, to tuck sadness away
It will keep, this nagging pain

“I forgive you”
That’s so cliche
So I’ll say something true
I don’t. No, not today

Nor tomorrow, as well
But here I stand
A heart longing to swell
Catching light on trembling hands

Open still
Though not for you
So go on, toil and mill
Does old dust reveal anything new?

You’ll discover it’s all the same, I’m afraid
But don’t come looking for me
You go twist in the bed you’ve made
I intend to waltz with this breeze

And so I’m called away
The wind is tugging my hair
I won’t miss you as I play
Won’t hear your laughter in the air.

-LM Jones

The Story of My Tree


I know what you must think
When you see my barren limbs.
You see an old tree that looks dry and wasted.
It’s true that my leaves had fallen, seemingly, never to return
And the bloom of my youth is a fuzzy dream that
Floats on the edges of memory.

Aw, but you are wrong! I am far from dead!
And I’m not just any tree, I was chosen for a special purpose!
I know that somewhere out there I have not been forgotten.
So sit awhile with me and if you listen,
With more than ears, I will tell you a story.
I will tell you about my girl.

I remember it was a bright spring morning,
And my friends, the birds, were just stirring from my branches.
When, suddenly, they leapt to the air in a flurry of fright
As a man climbed onto one of my great arms.
He shimmied to the center just above an elbow
And began to fasten something there.

In that moment I wanted nothing more than to buck him to the ground!
The man jumped down when he had finished
And stood there admiring his handiwork with pride.
The new weight was strange and unbalanced.
In a furry I wondered why this man had tread upon me
And ruined my beauty with this thing!

The air around me filled with the most horrifying shrieks.
It was as if banshies flew around my head.
I felt a tug and my limb began to sway.
Oh, I could see them then, not banshies at all
But little girls with halos of golden hair.
My furry melted away to joy, as I realized, I had been chosen!

We don’t like the older ones so much.
For they come to tear and hack and take.
But, I had heard stories of the joy little ones bring
When they come to play.
As I watched the happiness on their tipped little faces
I stood straighter and more firm and felt tremendous pride.

Then, one morning I spotted the oldest of the girls.
She walked slowly down the path toward me.
She was focused on a treat in her hands,
But as she neared she licked the last of the ice-cream
From her fingers and smiled up at me.
I knew then that I was her’s and she was mine.

She would swing with her head back and eyes closed.
Her bare feet carelessly brushed the red southern ground,
And she hummed tunelessly along with the birds and cicadas.
I knew she was dreaming dreams.
I could almost see them
Floating up and up into my highest branches.
I imagined I could catch them there for safe keeping.

Once, she ran to me, tears falling to trail behind her.
She sat on the swing with her face pressed to the rubber of the tire.
I couldn’t bear the sorrow that rolled from her in waves.
So, I called to my friends, the breeze and birds,
And we conspired to comfort her.
As I gently rocked her the birds sang and the breeze dried her tears.

As time passed her visits grew fewer and fewer.
Until one day she never came at all.
I seemed to drift then into a kind of slumber.
Without the ringing laughter and spontaneous joy of the girls
My focus became blurred and my mind began to wander.
No one came to visit me anymore.

Once, I returned from drifting with a shock as I felt a tug!
“My little ones have returned!” I thought with a thrill!
How wonderful it would be to hear their sweet voices as they swing.
Then, to my horror I realized it wasn’t them at all.
A man with a saw stood below me!
I cringed as I thought that this must be my time,
but he began to cut at my rope instead.

I tried to tell him to stop, how sad my girl would be,
but he didn’t hear and steadily he continued until he carried it away.
I think I cried then, not saltwater tears like my girl,
But my branches hung low and my leaves fell.
I remained bare then, for I had been forgotten.
Not even the birds or the breeze could lift me from my sorrow.

Sometime later, it could have been days or years,
I felt a light touch upon my trunk and I stirred.
It was a cheek pressed there and I heard a tuneless hum.
It was her! She looked up at me, tears in her eyes, and smiled.
That look I knew so well.
She was older, and I could tell she’d overcome much.

In that moment I felt pride to see how strong she’d become
Like the strength of a tree.
She was sturdy and could weather the storms.
I could tell she had roots that had gone deep.
Suddenly, I wasn’t sad anymore.
She hadn’t forgotten me.
I knew that wherever she went she would carry me in her heart.
I would always be her anchor, her dream weaver, her guide, and her comfort.
I felt joy again, and began to bloom.
-LM Jones
-picture by me. This is my tree.

Feel With Me


“Voices I play within my head
Touch my own skin
And hope that I’m still breathing”

If you could feel what I feel
You’d know how much brighter the sun burns for me
A fiery kiss
As sweat drips
Glistening on honey skin
Emerald eyes ablaze

If you could see what I see
You’d see the universe come to life by night
Oh how he awakes for me
Sending stars to ring my head
Their light like silk
Sliding down shoulders and breasts
Lingering on hips and legs

If you could hear what I hear
You’d hear the ground breath
Singing a song
As I sleep in the secret grove
Surrounded by trees that hum along
On my side I’m curled
Cheek to earth
She whispers to me of life
And longing

If you could smell what I smell
You’d smell the sky before the storm
Waves of ozone and electricity
Crackling between raised fingertips
Hair floating with static
A red halo
I smell the wolf at my side
Wild and fierce, like me
Awaiting the lightning that will come.

-LM Jones

How to Describe?


My mind is a forest, Fathomless as the sea
It’s depths a mystery even to me

With the heart of a wolf yet untamed
A wild thing, fierce…unclaimed

A soul of rushing rivers and blinding wind
The power of lightning in this body of sin

How to describe myself to you
I’m as sweet as the lily crested in dew

Ah, but do not mistake my sweet for soft
I can be cooler than mountain frost.

A passion to rival the sun’s heated core
A spirit with wings, such pleasure to soar!

I’m the tree with her branches held high in praise
I’m the song in a sunset wrapped in pink rays

I’m all these or none, that’s up to you
I’m just me and I have nothing to prove.
-LM Jones

Postcards to Myself (part I)


My mind is an avalanche
Of places I will never go
And people I will never be…

Pangong Lake, Ladakh

So serene
as I slip off shoes
All the better to feel
Smooth grey stones
Hot against my tender feet
A soft breeze
And reflections of cotton clouds
In azure water
They enfold me

As I follow this path
Anticipation flows through me
There is much more to come
I breath India

Living Root Bridges, Meghalaya

Created from living roots
The far away brothers
Of my childhood tree
My own tree
That cradled me in his great arms
I feel him here with me
As I cross
And as I press my cheek to bark
Eyes closed I hear the wind and water
I feel the earth
So similar and yet so unlike home
I breath India

Almora, Uttarakhand

Adorned by so many temples built by hand
Yet your peaks are temples in their own right
Yes, I see you
I hear your worship
More powerful than any created by man
You stand as a testament to real power
And beauty
A beauty almost too sharp to comprehend
I lift my arms in reflection
Of your great height
And we are all raised to the skies
You, the birds, the trees, and I
I breath India

Indian Ghost Town of Bhangarh, Rajasthan

I wander this long abandoned city
And the little girl in me is thrilled to life
So many secret places explored
By my adventurous little heart
No lock kept this child out
Something about the lost and forgotton
Croons to be seen by my eyes alone
And so now this ghost of a town
Has beckoned me to her mysteries
Only I appreciate the magic
Long stored in still warm walls
My fingers seek it out
My body hears the song
I breath India

-LM Jones
(what I listened to as I wrote this https://open.spotify.com/track/24PHFnhJLOAcC7Cv9vBCjT)