place me not with stars
for while they slide
across skies
they are brightly fixed
within their constellations
set me not with clouds
for though they drift
above it all
they are heaved across heaven
at the whim of their winds
call me not yours
for though your heart
is safe harbor
I would be sore-fettered
ensnared by your heart
rather let me be free
as birds or the sea
fleeting and sweeping
with lithe beating wings
and fond wishes of shore
© Sarah Whiteley
the mind of a wanderer
the heart of the road
she pulls at the strings
of the violin’s soul
feet beat the earth
with the heat of a sun
pulse set ablaze
by night’s primal hum
she moves to the keen
of sweet gypsy strings
hips wrapped in hair
like black-feathered wings
she careens through the trees
under unbounded night
riding the winds
in rampant delight
the song of the road
feeds the flame on her lips
and the call of the crow
is a wanderer’s kiss
the feet of a gypsy
dance a feral refrain
with the fire of a freedom
no walls can contain
© Sarah Whiteley
I liked the aloneness
of those days
my thoughts had room
to stretch
and test the edges
of the paper
without the wired
trenches
that criss-cross
shared spaces
ideas could breathe
through windows wide
breezes shimmering
along the clean edges
of solitude
a quiet corner
misses the comfort
of our companionship
in spite of the mud-dashed
traps between
but for now
my hand would prefer
the peace of apart
and the aloneness
of words
© Sarah Whiteley
