to let you go
i twine the words
of complicated grief
there was no goodbye
never another hello
and then i made it worse
displayed before savage eyes
killed myself slowly
with little pride to show
flames shooting higher
than ever thought possible
i sold my soul to the devil
who paid a hefty price
to lick bitter tears shed for us
and consume his last meal.
I became trapped in my own selfish misery. I once held onto hope. Positioned as a shiny metal object, glistening in the sun, it promised better days. I prayed to it. Ran my fingers over the smooth surface. Worshiped the image broadcast back to my heart.
I learned that day about rust as tears flowed. Death approaches angrily, despite appearances. I wish i hadn’t fallen so hard. Knives are all too predictable. Perhaps there is the lesson. Learn all you can before you are trapped.
Do we owe apologies when life happens? My heart ♥️ is discombobulated at the moment. I miss you dear readers and i made a brief appearance this morning after a welcome disappearance from the world. A friend and i made away to the wooded hills of Brown County, in my expedient retreat from the hustle and bustle of moving. And i stopped to breath. And a few words made it to the surface, popped and left stains on paper. I shared them with you from the encouragement of another. Thank you for reading.
death of an era
I have not been able to read any of your blogs and i want to. I desperately feel i owe you that curtesy and i cannot fulfill that endeavor. I want to be able to think, write and paint. But i cannot. I want to reach out, touch and exchange smiles. But i cannot. I want to scream, be heard and cry. But i cannot.
Life happens. But i am not.
I remain enclosed in self-protection from the chaos of realtor showings, movers approaching with boxes, tape and sharpies. I am spinning and not on tip-toe.
At the moment i remain confused. I do not profess to understand the complexities i am passing through. Your worlds are miles away and cannot be reached. My world is slipping from my hands.
my promise garden
These are moments to cherish. The labor of my hands have shown to say hello, one more time. And goodbye forever.
I wrote a poem to a friend this past weekend. (See below.) I sent it off to him. He did not respond. Silence weighs heavy on my head. I do not understand his absence after sharing his desire to reciprocate. Another of his small deaths looming?
found the feathers
who wastes their life?
bundled in piles
faded ink scribbles
unable to decipher his path forward
entangles with her promises.
Depression. And it’s accomplice, anxiety, arrived today. On horseback.
Out of the blue and bare-naked. Desperate to scare me. Both hoping to seduce.
I had ran away once. Appears now it will be twice.
Glanced to the side. Saw the consequences coming from a ways. It had to be more than a mile.
It was the voices that trapped my imagination. I trembled.
They brought shovels. Dug me a grave. Knew how weak i was and their plans overcame.
I gave in to their demands. Was there ever a chance?
Remember, neither proposed. They married you without consent.
Some day i will wake up.
bottled, spiced rum
witnessed my second birth
entering breeched and worn out
heard you say
chaos exists in silence
wayward be in shadow’s cloak
Love me while i am here
or don’t love me at all.
As i, my song,
lives as breath
fluid as the river,
passed through and over.
Sing the path.
Walk the earth.
Vapors exist, retract,
birth the unknown.
As i, my song,
lived in breath. Depart.
to keep living
the other choice is
sacrifice myself for the greater
spurn tea leaves
turn faces to stone
reckless hope wandering the wind
— Read on Fabric on the Daily Post
What are we willing to give up? What would i find behind your curtain as i swing it aside? Have you, will you, consider letting me know?
I wait. Anticipate. Is this a game eagerly played by two? Or only i?
Am i setting myself up for your opera. Life over as fast as it started. Slow. Drawn out misery. Ending with a cry of freedom!
A peek behind the madness of death exists behind every curtain. It matters not your fabric woven. The rapacious appetite for breath carries us along.
I do not plan to go anywhere. Neither behind your curtain. Or stand before it. I want to be your covering. Shield you from peering eyes.