see

I hear you, your words
more than words, an idea
with hands and eyes, a
dream walking around
made real because all
along you believed
it, seeing what we
couldn’t yet see.

—jennifer j. camp

the path

It is your way I follow when
there are no parents around
no sages, no wise men
to direct the cause of conviction
–just a meandering bumping toward
some place unnamed and unbargained for.
For you make paths for my feet,
my heart soon to follow.
And the mountain casts shadows here
that are remarkable, and I am small.
I will not be afraid when my toes
stumble and the turns don’t show up on any map.
I yet follow, convinced it won’t be long ‘til
you find me behind you, not even struggling
so hard to keep up.

—jennifer j. camp

the crack - poem

the crack

You see the crack in the cup,
the jagged scar like lightning piercing stormy sky.
Fingers trace the lines etched from collision
of counter and ceramic and stone.
But it holds still, my coffee steaming,
and I remember how beautiful are scars that tell a story
for I like the way you tell it, the untwisting of
truth until it straightens out
and it is all I ever see.

—jennifer j. camp

the crack - poem

fly

Doubt queries her,
hawk eyeing its prey.
Is this good enough?
Unique enough?
Lovely, worth noticing?
Her very life a question,
wingless bird in her hands.
And yet majesty of truth,
strength in being small,
are Poor in Spirit
turned right there
on its head.
Pivot! Breathe!
Open your fists!

And the bird,
its wings solid and
strong, turns its face
to the sun and flies.

—jennifer j. camp

fly poem

living beauty

Barely alive
living beauty
that day you ran
and the sun hugged
your shoulders and
laughed and the sweet
grass tickled your
toes and the dog
licked your face and
you lay down, down
in green blue gold
bursting, bursting
loose all binds.
No, no you are
not far away,
away from here,
not tied down, down
to any thing.

—jennifer j. camp

companion

Your fingers envelope
my palm,
crunch of
pebble on pavement,
–—exhale.
Loneliness is greedy,
gulping air thick
and silent.
How does it work,
my being
with you and
yet needing
needing other
companionship too?
A friend who loves you
who loves me who loves you
who loves me who loves you
who loves me
who loves me.
I am not okay here,
my lungs
compressing,
my mouth
gasping in
this static void
love me
love me
where you are not.

—jennifer j. camp

resentment

Where do you go when
resentment, its steely
grip a vise around
your mind, your heart, tells
you you are safe here
protected here, and love,
a brilliant thing, lies
covered, discarded on
the floor?
Battered and bruised, we
keep moving, our feet
upon the bumpy
path. But pick it up
now, put on what was
lost, wear it over one
shoulder and another
so, for the first time,
with eyes open now,
you can see.

desert wandering

She thought she was falling
apart into landscape
unfamiliar and strange.
Not what she wanted but
some breaking open with no
way to breathe in
open air, open sky.
How, how to navigate
through desert, where
wandering in any
direction makes little
difference to change.
Come, rain!
Come, storm!
She drifts, drifts in
a place both too large
and too loud
and too bleak and
too small and fails
fails to recognize
her own voice.
Do you know it?
Do you hear it?
she asks.
In the desert place
where turning
turning
becomes habitual,
consequential, instinctual.
Sand in her heart and
her eyes.