Sticky Black.
Out of body— for good I suppose.
My body still and lifeless as my spirit rose.
I thought my heart was healthy,
but its blackened and stained.
It must have been that sticky black that ran through my veins.
I hear the surgeon say, “Time of death: 1653.”
Death no longer has meaning, that time that ended me.
I look down at my flesh.
They have put the scalpel away.
My beatless heart, blackened and gray.
It took death to discover the truth—
My altruistic intentions
were selfish interventions.
I thought my heart was healthy,
but its blackened and stained.
My love for myself was the sticky black that ran through my veins.
Silence is golden.
And I do find
As silence wraps her golden arms around me
In the most gentle of embraces
My soul finds rhythm
And she hums a hymn
for my ears alone
my heart stills
rocking to her metronome
Disconnection.
My words enter an empty void.
Reverberations reach no ear.
My heart seizes.
All they hear is my fear.
The heat rises, from my chest to my neck.
My lips are moving,
but they are disconnected from my head.
Wise as these.
My friends so wise,
have sought a higher calling.
They kiss the skies,
amongst their comrades fallen.
I disrupt their eulogy and solemn peace.
So still they stay, bearing witness to my trodden feet.
As the dead enrich the earth,
so low to the rebirth,
The wind flosses their goodbyes,
a whispering demise.
Some bow as I draw near,
there wisdom mysterious,
I still a quiet ear to their majesty glorious.
My friends so pondering,
and I caught wondering,
If a tree I could be, would I be as wise as these?
Freckled Nose Girl.
I want to let go—but don’t want to forget.
The way you loved me— a freckled nose kid.
That regret, to this day, I still hold on to it.
I wanted to free fall,
but I was afraid of my clumsy feet.
They got in the way of letting my heart be free.
The fear of my permeable skin,
that a faint whisper of “love”
would reveal my imperfection.
You were rejected but forgave,
I was inconstant and unreceptive.
I want to let go— but don’t want to forget.
The way you loved me— and you never quit.
Perfectionism my bridle, fear the bit,
Those around me to turn my head.
My heart— the large beast— you heart put-
upon the earth, under my cladded foot.
Yes I regret it, a story quite cold.
But the past is history, my unspoken words,
never told.
I want to let go— but never forget.
The way I loved you—my message forever unsaid.
The Wall.
If ignorance is bliss, avoidance is paradise.
A glorious entrapment, a wonderful disguise.
The longer you live the higher the walls rise.
No space for a door, trapped within,
Seclusion your fate, ambivalence your whim.
You’ve lived there so long, this paradise you’ve built.
With fear your companion, you partake in his guilt.
You grasp at the brick, the walls too high to tell.
You thought this was your safe place, but this paradise you’ve built—
its the pit of hell.