In Response to Rebecca
—Ainsley Chernek 

1. Observations

I don't know much about forever.
In the great scheme,
My knowledge is a
Glass half-full.

But I know how to tell:

When a pebble drops in the
Pool of my consciousness—
Leaving ripples far greater than its mass,

That there has been a change.

And there was—

The shift came slowly
With unexpected dimension.

It arrived with
Honey sticks,
Continuous days,
And Blue eyes.

It came in the form of a 
White Hawk with Claws.

I, a meadow for it to perch,
A muse for it to grasp.

In the locket of my life,
This new gem shines Purple.

It is not dimmed by the


of other placed stones

This gem allows them to shine.


2. Years

Some things in life
Are accumulated by struggle.
Rigorous dedication—

And while I,
An on-looker, too—
Watch it struggle.
I collected the fragments—placed them together.

How can they say that 
"Love is Blind,"
When I know every cell
On that frame?

Love is instead,

I waited for
The Reason in its life,
to dissipate.

Reverse in mold!
Form something other 
Than a lock.

Take these fragments back.

Let you be full again—
Like your cup of coffee.
Up to the brim and cascading down.
Present in the moment from the heat.

Not numb.
Not half spoken.
Nothing but the perfection I can see.
Nothing but you.


3. Ardent

I wish I could substitute 
My eyes for his.
Let him glimpse all
that I see.

His eyes are broken,
Full of wear,

He manifests
in his gaze.

And my very words fall deaf.

For they are not images.
Not concrete.
They are unfathomable 

In my mind,

Who is he to say that
The world is not brighter—
Because he is in it?

 When I stand here—
He as my very proof.
My world so changed.
In tune and mending.

For the first time in my life,
I do not feel
Like a prize—A slut.

I do not feel 
Obligated to love.

It spools out of me
Relentless—Designed to be shared.

I have felt more beautiful under 
His gaze—
Then I have ever felt concealed.

Oh, how I can depict
The way he looks when he smiles.
The way he sounds 
When he is tired.

But I cannot for the life of me,
Create a definition
Of what exactly it was that made me fall.
Of what exactly it is that bids me to stay.

He leaves me absolutely speechless.
At a loss of words.

In a quiet moment, I still cannot think.

For him,
I become raw.
Stripped to the root
Of who I am.

Into the perfection
Of a single 

Copyright 2012, Ainsley Chernek. All rights reserved.

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