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Our Evolution as Lovers of Our Ever-Changing Selves

Love evolves, 

and every day, I find

new ways

to love the new version of you;

new versions of us. 

While cherishing all

the ways we were

and not anymore,

all the things we adopt

and let go about ourselves,

we find ourselves embracing

what we’ve become

together. 

We passed

the previous tests

in flying colors,

even if we didn’t always take

the most ideal path;

we’ve created

solutions 

tailored just for us.

Forget the numbers;

we don’t need to know the odds. 

We have our hands

to guide us

where we want them to land. 

And I will always

find yours in the dark. 

I’ve memorized the places

you take to hiding

when this world becomes

too much.

I know where to wait,

keeping the lamp of faith

lit outside the tunnel. 

Because I know

you’ll come out of it

looking for me

to be by my side

in our evolution as lovers

of our ever-changing selves. 

Our Evolution as Lovers of Our Ever-Changing Selves

27 October 2024

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A Safe Place to Snore

Seven billion people on the planet.

Only I have the privilege 

of hearing your snores up close,

telling me you feel safe 

in my arms.

Nothing else matters 

but your steady breathing,

your arms wrapped around me, 

protecting me from a world

falling apart at the seams. 

And we can sleep together 

all day;

it will still be

the most worthwhile use 

of my time. 

A Safe Place to Snore

26 October 2024

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The Author is Dead

My years flew by so swiftly, yet the journey of getting here seemed long and unfruitful. I feel I tired myself out trying harder than I ought, stretching wide and reaching for glimmer that turned out to be glints of cheap gold. What have I acquired but trinkets and piles of paper filled with dreams that may remain dreams until I fall into the deepest sleep? What do I do with all these words that hardly make a dent in this thick membrane of noise suffocating my world with endless muttering? 

By half the world’s standards, I am young. Yet I feel the strain in my limbs at every turn. I do not wish to be younger. I only wish I could hold on to my senses for longer. Or rather, that they don’t abandon me too soon. I know there are yet some silver threads in the sky, if not gold, to wait for. But I am tired. And I ache from restless hours, and I long for time. Though sometimes I wish for all of it to end sooner. 

But then, I met you in the passage. You’re still here. And I am reminded that I did not get here alone. Suddenly, the cheap glimmer turns into an aurora too beautiful for my eyes that they can’t but sing their gratitude in tears. I am reminded that in the midst of it all, there is kindness. I do not need to fear what I know to be inevitable. 

And these piles of paper didn’t turn out to be meaningless, after all, because you’ve given them the honor of your gaze. The thought of tomorrow exhausts me to no end. But it is of much lighter weight, with your smile hanging at the corner of my eyes. 

If anyone should ask what my mumbling is for, I thank you for taking these words into consideration. They are now in your hands. 

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Tourists in the City of Spirits

We climbed the narrow stairways
to the city of spirits
with the winding alleyways
of little shops and rooms filled with teas.
The sky was blue, but above us
were bright balls of red
lit with gold and yellow lights
that glowed across the roads and spread.
My feet were sore, but up we went
to more flights of stairs,
and on the landing, we were read
our fortunes by some unknown friends.

Familiar tunes played, and all around
were faces we have seen
from stories we have known together
on the big and little screens.
By twilight, we were comforted
by soft, frozen sticky treats
topped with peanuts to the brim;
we were far removed from grim.
And all the little huts were filled
with trinkets, trims, and gems.
We wanted them all in our luggage home,
and take we did and on we roamed.

The moon was peeking at the turn
to the colorful emporium
where music played for weary tourists
who wanted a piece of the magic.
As we picked our last keepsakes,
I saw you smiling with your eyes.
Grief was far, and in my heart,
you brought me right back to the start.
It was quiet on the bus
as we looked out to bid farewell.
And even now, we see it all;
by and by, we’ll heed its call.

Tourists in the City of Spirits
February 24, 2024

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The Colors of the Subatomic Spaces Between Us

I’ve ascertained the exact point
in time
when everything that ever brought
wonder and awe into this world
was in my hands.
The moment
summed up in a sigh;
the nod before I almost
drifted
into dreams,
I saw it.
Your hand in mine,
and the sound of nothing
but our breaths.
All was clear.

The culmination
of all the sweat we’ve sweated
while apart,
in that moment,
I saw how foolish
my fears were.
There is nothing stronger
than the force
that becomes us
if we but stop to recognize it.
The highways come
to a standstill.
The railways bend
and air traffic halts
at the sight of our silhouette.

Don’t fret.
I have seen the inside
of the particles
that convinced us we are matter.
I saw the colors
of the subatomic spaces
between us,
and I guarantee
we are brighter than the stars.
We’re everywhere.
You and I,
we are the universe.
And we will always
find our way
back to that sigh.

The Colors of the Subatomic Spaces Between Us
December 23, 2023

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Every Sweet Return

Sometimes, passion is wrapped

around silence.

And fervor is weaved into the veins

of steady breathing.

There is music in the stillness,

and love

in quiet conversations

about the affairs of the day.

The comings and goings

of the familiar,

and the multitudes

of sighs, grunts, and huffs

about the world outside. 

Broken only

by the divine moments

of little pecks,

an embrace so tight

until the other dozes off. 

Afternoons of nothings

with the beloved

are adventures into the realm

of their thoughts.

We travel through connection,

learning how they want their sheets

draped around their body;

the exact volume

of white noise

that makes them comfortable. 

Merrily, we swim 

into the waters we learn

to call home,

where we drop our anchors

in every sweet return. 

Every Sweet Return

October 26, 2023

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If I Could Bottle the Entire Universe

If I could bottle

the entire universe

to show you the magnitude

of your touch’s impact

on everything that breathes

when it lands on me,

perhaps you will understand

how the colors

in the visible spectrum

came to be, 

and how

those still unseen

somehow appear

in humanly wavelengths

when you smile. 

🌏

Who could name them

but the angels

who witness their nature;

how they collide and form

new hues

yet unknown

each time a sigh

escapes your breath?

And how the warmth

from your body

creates life

in dying soils. 

They told me the name

by which they call you,

known to no other. 

🌏

But the universe

and all the colors—seen

and unseen

in the physical spectrum

would not suffice

to show you how your presence

creates the ripples

of love

undulating in the tiniest

quarks…How necessary,

how urgent

your heartbeats are

to hold the world

as we know it

together. 

🌏

If I Could Bottle the Entire Universe

September 28, 2023

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The Language of the Water, the Clock, Your Heart, and Her Soul

Listen
to what the water tells you
when it sates the parched
parts of your soul,
when you think the world
has left you
and the leaves begin
to fall.

To the ticking sound
the clock makes,
every breath you still
sustain,
and the thumping
in your chest
that sends life out
to your veins.

Count
the dewdrops in the morning
when you first greet
the sun,
how it affirms your right
to take up space
in the world from which
you run.

There are mountains
far from view
that you think has none
to do with you,
but they keep the earth
from crumbling
and from washing over
you.

‘Tis the language
of the silent; what they speak
when you can’t hear.
Listen to her sighs
every time you are near.
They say all you need to know
when you feel the dread
humming low.


September 15, 2023

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Garden of Dreams Is Now on Kindle!

My second poetry collection, Garden of Dreams, is now available as a Kindle eBook! You may place your orders via the link below. Your copy will be delivered to your Kindle device, tablet, and/or mobile phone.

I appreciate your support!

Natalia Go’s second poetry collection, Garden of Dreams, talks about resurfacing from the thick, menacing silence of a well, past the cold, damp walls, and into a garden where light meets dreamers. It includes sonnets and poems turned into songs. 

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Because the World Has Learned Her Name

She gave me two little bow ties

topped with pesto;

from her fork to my mouth,

it was delightful

and fragrant

like her hair after a shower.

I giggled

and she laughed, not knowing

how much that gesture meant to me.

For it was then time stopped

in our little corner

against the wall

of the Italian restaurant 

we both adore.

It wasn’t the first time

she fed me so sweetly

her food and soul.

It wasn’t the first time

the crowd froze

as we gazed 

ever so briefly

into each other’s eyes.

But it might have been the first

I’ve confirmed

what my heart already knows

of what her heart knows. 

Beyond words; beyond 

sweet nothings 

and late-night conversations

about everything moving and still

around the planets and the stars. 

Beyond truth

is truth

of the highest kind. 

The kind that makes you certain

a laugh is not a laugh,

but a confession

of words coveted 

but said

in the profoundest of fashions. 

Like a cappuccino 

that needs no sweeteners

for the cup is pure. 

She is the North Star

not of my own decisions

but of the universe’s. 

Her smile governs

the obedience and alignment

of masses big and small

in the sky.

They expand because of the years

she has yet to share

with this pale world,

to keep time stretching 

beyond its limits

and keep objects in check

of their shapes and forms. 

And every particle

knows its name and identity

because the world has learned hers. 

Because I learned hers. 

Because the World Has Learned Her Name

July 2, 2023