“My Beloved, the Ultimate Servant” copyright 2010 John J. Rigo, upcoming book, “Passion Amidst Apathy”

Linda, "The Ultimate Servant"

 

 

My Beloved just left.

The Ultimate Servant is she.

Always giving,

always receiving little in return.

More and more each day,

am I now believing that God,

must be a woman.

When she leaves on another mission,

of mercy and care for another,

I always find myself in sadness.

Never does it seem,

that I ever have the chance to tell her,

how much I love her,

and how precious she is,

to me.

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“What Is This Thing That Cries Out Within Me?” copyright 2005 John J. Rigo “Roses Amidst Thorns”

What is this thing that cries out within me?

Is it a spirit that hungers for freedom?

“Freedom from what?” my mind asks in cold, hard terms.

 

 

My life seems about things.

Things stack, things store away; a room full of things.

A bank account with growing numbers, but it seems,

it is all about the balances.

 

 

I look into the mirror because they say mirrors never lie.

What I see is not what I am.

I am like unto the spirit of youth locked in a dark, gray cell,

listening to the sound of time on the clock

growing more loudly each day.

 

I find myself dancing alone at times.

I love what the sound of music does to my body.

I go back to that mirror, with sweat dripping down my face.

I am still puzzled by the face that stares back at me.

 

There is a pleading look in my eyes.

They cry out, “See me, see me, I am not dead!”

A ghost I have become from growing older with time.

 

I move through my life seemingly untouched by the sounds

of laughter from my past, the smells of loving sweat,

the memory of gentle lips touching the back of my neck.

 

I feel like my body no longer remembers the joys of passion.

Yesterday, I sat in a room noticing many things.

They were little things, but important things, that let the gift of

beauty be shared by one such as me, hungry for their taste.

 

The gentle curve to a neck,

that seemed to never end.

The movement of material,

on a full soft breast,

as the breath of the beholder

played with the movement.

 

Eyes with color of the lightest blue,

with mystery whirling with their depths,

of thoughts yet unspoken or shared with anyone.

I heard that voice within me cry out, “See me, see me,

I am not dead, but alive! Hear my cry, feel my need, I am alive!”

 

I left the room without a word.

There was a slight smile on my face toward you,

as there was a similar smile on yours.

Silent thoughts unshared, upon our departure.

 

Two ships passing on a huge ocean,

with a wave of the hand toward each other

across desolate waves.

When will this voyage end?

What distant shores await each of us? 

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