thoughts: they come
Time runs to find me.
The river drags my wings,
obscenely tied behind my back.
My heart held tight to my neck.
Neither of us bothers to chip away at reality. Empty promises dropped into plastic buckets.
You watch as a razor scrapes my chin. Neither of us face the sin.
I slip. My legs sway to the beat of water rushing from the faucet.
A body is nowhere, seen.
I sit with myself and listen.
Find peace of mind in treasured heart.
Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well lived.
Like Dicken’s “Tale of Two Cities” I have lived a tale of polar opposites. I have known a dark night of the soul and the fresh morning dew of enlightenment.
No memories can ever be forgotten but they can be forgiven. And the forgiveness allows me to wake up and be grateful for everything. Even the memories that still cause sharp pains. Those are the memories that led me to despair and wrestle in a black, plastic garbage bag until I finally took the knife, I once used against myself, and started cutting open breathing holes.
dig
spirits released
the soil shifts
to congest my chest
flicker of stars
moon shadow
below
My own space. Mostly in my head. Yet, I stretch my arms up and out.
Fear diminishes. Courage sets in and becomes comfortable. Silence.
An awakening. Your idea of me no longer digs into my heart.
The match you hold hangs over my head. I close my eyes. Pray instead.
In a desperate attempt to find myself, I appear a mess. And that mess includes a home full of rooms and a collections of things. Ideas endlessly scattered. Everywhere.
So where have I been? Trying to find me. Editing my physical, emotional and spiritual self. I still haven’t quite found what I was hoping to find. I am getting close.
And if you haven’t noticed, I started another blog. An attempt to organize my thoughts. Am I successful? I certainly cannot see myself clearly. I avoid mirrors out of fear I won’t like the response.
But always I make my way back to writing. Still scratching the dust on the road.
Finding strength
in the oaks and white pines, bird song and Spring Peepers.
On dragonfly wings
I glide among all things.
As the Monarch rises, I am magic in ordinary occasions.
The sunrise and sunset
the morning dew and evening showers.
Bring me a path unseen
I will walk among the flowers.
The minutes pass faster
than are deeply enjoyed.
Burn out
before we see the light.
The minutes run ahead
as hours catch up.
Dangle
before our hands pass through fog.
Check the wrist
where steel grey foam convenes.
Praise the waves
for tumbled glass unworthy.
Ever so alone in the world
you wail
years into days,
days on end a blur.
Time to dig the earth
find the roots of torment
as people weave within,
rattle my soul.
How does one understand truth? Truth was set in stone long ago. The greatest of commands, to love. Peace of mind blooms with watered intentions of serving others. Do not murder. Do not plant false lies. Do not appear as love with malice for others in your heart. Find your sixth sense and do not be fooled easily.
Often when we are hurt, our initial reaction is retaliation. The anger burns hot inside. Emotional self-discipline circumvents such reactions. I consider myself in-training. To find strength a cure.
Being honest but peaceful and forgiving paves a long road home with hope. Sometimes walking away, when possible, is best. Remembering to breathe.
Courage to exit and enter the world.
