lost

Where would we be
without awkward silences
that burgeon with vulnerability
over what we cannot quite express
consigned to endlessly roam
a sterile kind of wilderness
with the surety of answers
and every moment fully clothed

Where would we be
without the knowledge
of miles to go before we sleep
and a quantity of innocence
to fuel the escalating image
around the missing puzzle pieces
to revel in open ended completion
and revolve in a certitude of wonder


Lucy Meskill

the outlier...

art is a charmed glass slipper
left on a staircase by a person
in a hurry to escape the revelation
that every artist is an imposter
and a dreamer and a lowly cinder sweep
proof of an under-loved interloper
art is a shoe that fits only one foot
its destiny is paired to only one soul
art is the remnant of a party
to which one was not invited
as they danced the night away
in the arms of a sovereign
far above their station
art is the proof of presence
that does not at midnight
turn to dust, but lingers
fused into clarity on a stairway
to court the lonely princes of perception
and annoy the king and queen of heart and mind
who would have them marry well
art is the thing that because we release it
remains charmed enough to survive our doubt
to become the key to a moment when we were clear enough
to trip the light fantastic and then melt, dreaming, into the night

lucy meskill

illustration: Cinderella by Arthur Rackham

the hourglass...

space is

the final frontier

between 

the atoms 

inside us and

the thoughts 

in our mind 

vast at one end

and vast

at the other

our perception

is the waistline

where everything

feels small

though we routinely 

belt staggering bigness

in dead leather

and so tightening

staunching awareness

of unfathomable extent

to satisfy our zeal

and unmitigated

hunger for absolute

nucleic rule

individuality

is not a prison

but an entirety

of perfection

that revolves

in spite of

our illusions

vastly spacious

devoid of capture

maintaining order

with exactitude

and appropriate

atomic spacing

we are a universe

expanding

orderly and chaotic

crammed into a

suitcase within a 

suitcase hurtling

through darkness

completely 

illuminated

packed with 

precision

and summarily

set spinning

like a bright top 

on a smooth surface

moving randomly

within reason

life is an interval

of such gladness

driven to the brink

of elemental wonder

why not enjoy the ride…

Lucy Meskill

deliverance...

let the rattle of shame
wind down like a cricket
whose season is done

let the sound of it wane
in the thicket of weeds
where it had begun

let the feel of it dull
like the thorn of a rose
beside a rock wall

let us answer no more
to the desperate sound
of its ebbing call

let shame be the wild child
that we let run away
from our hopeful nest

let us labor no more
to secure that sere bird
a snug place to rest...

Lucy Meskill

dependability...

The noise of the world
--the ebb and flow of current events--
tries to wrestle the steering wheel
of our car away from us
and drive it.
It takes concentration
an agile mind
with steady hands
--at two and ten--
to look and listen,
to notice and steer...

Lucy Meskill

posture and eye contact...

A squirrel's teeth
grow on average
about six inches per year.
Squirrels need to gnaw
and process hard things,
with soft things inside them,
every single day.
A diet of only nut meats
offers no bounty
to a mouth full of
dangerously overgrown teeth.
The human brain
thinks around 50,000
thoughts in a day,
the majority of which
are insignificant.
It is important
to try and pierce the shell
of certain observations
with the teeth
of understanding,
and the bright enamel
of critical thought.
Clarity, accuracy,
relevance, consistency,
completeness, fairness,
and logical correctness,
all of which are healthy,
especially when metered
with a propensity for
loving others,
the practice of
smelling flowers,
the desire for
petting animals,
the wonder of
watching insects,
the joy of spotting
teapots in thunderheads,
and the thrill of
contemplating air.

Lucy Meskill

love...

here's how it starts
it starts as a warning
a small light broadcast
by a ship far out at sea

here's how it continues
it continues like salvation
at velocity an action
that sets the spirit free

here's how we endure it
we endure it by surrender
by wading through stagnation
while willing it to be

here's how it saves us
it saves us thru connection
by tethering our cargo
to another's by degree

here's why we do it
we do it as it thrills us
and partners our deficiencies
with strengths we do not see

forged and relinquished
made to last and squandered
a gladdening rejoinder
to a universal plea...

Lucy Meskill