Avail me of your senses, if you please.
Give over to me
Your glassy eyes
Your forked tongue
Your layers of skin-thin paper
Your taste in clothes.
Give me that other sense,
The one between, the one that you're unsure of
But never betrays you.
I will treat them carefully,
And be sure to hand them back when I am done.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Smoke.
Mwen regret sa.
I found a fount of rubies, one day-
Sapphire gleaming in a puddle beneath my feet
I dug down in this shining mountain
And found exactly what I was looking for.
Deep under each of our lies
Lies a sleeping dragon: heavy-lidded but just as dangerous.
A threat to the frail threads that hold us together.
A warning to tread carefully over the coals.
I regret. I regret shaking it awake- the marks it's claws left and the charred edges of my confidence remind me to go slowly, step lightly, and keep watch for precious stones that make my mouth water,
But must never be touched.
I found a fount of rubies, one day-
Sapphire gleaming in a puddle beneath my feet
I dug down in this shining mountain
And found exactly what I was looking for.
Deep under each of our lies
Lies a sleeping dragon: heavy-lidded but just as dangerous.
A threat to the frail threads that hold us together.
A warning to tread carefully over the coals.
I regret. I regret shaking it awake- the marks it's claws left and the charred edges of my confidence remind me to go slowly, step lightly, and keep watch for precious stones that make my mouth water,
But must never be touched.
Unconditional.
Breathe it in.
Breathe it out.
Breathe it in.
Let it go.
It wasn't ever mine to have in the first place.
I owe/own nothing, and so do you.
No contract here, nothing written nor signed.
Just love and temporary shelter given freely.
The logic behind my eyes makes sense and elevates us all.
By my heart's gentle insistence whispers a story of missing. Of innocent regret. Of a very empty space.
It's fibers pulling slightly, and a low ache that lets me know I'm real.
Lets me know that there's still work to do.
The next stepping-stone ahead is a step up, closer to healing, to putting it all together.
It's a step apart.
I know what happens, I know we always start with the best intentions but they end up fading quickly.
Light-years away, I'm pushing back out into the water. I don't know what else to do.
I'm sorry. I never did.
Breathe it out.
Let it in.
Send it through.
And if faith does carry this intent, if you ever make it, I'll still be there.
Breathe it out.
Breathe it in.
Let it go.
It wasn't ever mine to have in the first place.
I owe/own nothing, and so do you.
No contract here, nothing written nor signed.
Just love and temporary shelter given freely.
The logic behind my eyes makes sense and elevates us all.
By my heart's gentle insistence whispers a story of missing. Of innocent regret. Of a very empty space.
It's fibers pulling slightly, and a low ache that lets me know I'm real.
Lets me know that there's still work to do.
The next stepping-stone ahead is a step up, closer to healing, to putting it all together.
It's a step apart.
I know what happens, I know we always start with the best intentions but they end up fading quickly.
Light-years away, I'm pushing back out into the water. I don't know what else to do.
I'm sorry. I never did.
Breathe it out.
Let it in.
Send it through.
And if faith does carry this intent, if you ever make it, I'll still be there.
Simple.
More homework on my list-
Presence, expression and now meditation.
I ran today, farther from home than I wanted,
Further than I should have.
I don't think I am running away,
More to something that's always just at my fingertips.
"...If I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I'll never look any farther than my own backyard..."
It's not getting what you want, it's wanting what you have... It's being fully present with each experience, enjoying every moment, not always planning the next move, the next jump, this week's checkmate.
It's doing less with more.
It's paying attention within and without.
We're more different, perhaps than we imagined. But find significance in similar things: love, kindness, acceptance and growth.
Accepting your kindness, accepting my own growth and remembering that in the end, it's only love that you carry with you.
Your heart is weighed against a feather, and if it's filled with joy and light, it is it's own reward.
Simply be happy.
I hope someday that I figure out how to make it just that- simple.
Presence, expression and now meditation.
I ran today, farther from home than I wanted,
Further than I should have.
I don't think I am running away,
More to something that's always just at my fingertips.
"...If I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I'll never look any farther than my own backyard..."
It's not getting what you want, it's wanting what you have... It's being fully present with each experience, enjoying every moment, not always planning the next move, the next jump, this week's checkmate.
It's doing less with more.
It's paying attention within and without.
We're more different, perhaps than we imagined. But find significance in similar things: love, kindness, acceptance and growth.
Accepting your kindness, accepting my own growth and remembering that in the end, it's only love that you carry with you.
Your heart is weighed against a feather, and if it's filled with joy and light, it is it's own reward.
Simply be happy.
I hope someday that I figure out how to make it just that- simple.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
The toxic roils off you in waves.
Concrete heat, or
Wax factory drippings.
A grease housecoat that smells faintly of jealousy.
Of anger.
Of loathing.
Keep it at arm's length, a ten-foot pole or a thirty-foot drop.
Drop you like a hat, be careful and don't slip.
It's oily here. The kind you can't wash off.
Or don't.
A sidelong glance, tilted chin or narrowed eye
Reminds me to trust my own judgement better
And trust you less.
I may not be right, but I am not a tower to be toppled
No false idol
No conspiracy here.
Simply all of us doing our very best with what we have
And if that doesn't meet your standard of quality, and if I don't understand how your abrasiveness gets you ahead of me somehow,
Then I suppose I will go my way, and you yours, and we'll let the evidence speak for itself.
Concrete heat, or
Wax factory drippings.
A grease housecoat that smells faintly of jealousy.
Of anger.
Of loathing.
Keep it at arm's length, a ten-foot pole or a thirty-foot drop.
Drop you like a hat, be careful and don't slip.
It's oily here. The kind you can't wash off.
Or don't.
A sidelong glance, tilted chin or narrowed eye
Reminds me to trust my own judgement better
And trust you less.
I may not be right, but I am not a tower to be toppled
No false idol
No conspiracy here.
Simply all of us doing our very best with what we have
And if that doesn't meet your standard of quality, and if I don't understand how your abrasiveness gets you ahead of me somehow,
Then I suppose I will go my way, and you yours, and we'll let the evidence speak for itself.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Left.
The last of your tentacles unravels itself from my head.
A little from my soul, a little from my memories.
I am ready to open that little package, now.
I felt critical before, confused but it's just that I wasn't ready.
Just breathe.
Pass by.
Yellow pink and blue.
Separate but parallel but separate.
Where we overlap.
Simply do things that make you happy.
Quiet mind.
Bright heart.
Heal me slowly.
Everything helps, everything counts.
"the greatest of these, is love."
Fight less, and you live more.
Compassion, reflection, deliver me from stagnation.
Deliver me from fear, from loneliness, from insecurity.
Through the fire, enlightenment comes out of the darkest places.
A little from my soul, a little from my memories.
I am ready to open that little package, now.
I felt critical before, confused but it's just that I wasn't ready.
Just breathe.
Pass by.
Yellow pink and blue.
Separate but parallel but separate.
Where we overlap.
Simply do things that make you happy.
Quiet mind.
Bright heart.
Heal me slowly.
Everything helps, everything counts.
"the greatest of these, is love."
Fight less, and you live more.
Compassion, reflection, deliver me from stagnation.
Deliver me from fear, from loneliness, from insecurity.
Through the fire, enlightenment comes out of the darkest places.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Seeing around the corner.
"Stand in front of you, take the force of the blow..."
The force of your sight
Your seeing my believing endlessness
Colors flash I'll be your red-green blindness
Keep it secret, keep it safe before it burns you to the ground.
Living lightning out of place
Inward journey's outer space
Take it hold it help it leave
Your loving my stumbling when did I get so graceful...
When did I ever learn to dance?
High standards mean that I'll never disappoint you as much as I fail myself.
I should have run, today.
I should have spent the moments between patients thinking about rehearsal instead of finding stilted and thready connections.
They fill a sort of craving, but never quite enough.
I should learn the violin.
And French- I am good at languages and shouldn't squander that talent.
If I only tried harder and worked more at it, I could be that girl.
But, the more I look around, the more I see I'm actually closer than I think.
"If I don't own it, it can't own me."
A simple observation, complex revelation
With heavy implications for my insidious disease.
I carry it with me like a banner or a torch
Like a blanket or a bear
Something I return to when I've nothing else to do
I realize it's good energy wasted
That I'd be more efficient if I could be
But it's just so damned comfortable.
Find another pattern, here
Find another out, another way to be fulfilled
Fear fakes it's influence with a pompous and empty threat.
And if I can ever be free,
I might have to learn to open my eyes again.
The force of your sight
Your seeing my believing endlessness
Colors flash I'll be your red-green blindness
Keep it secret, keep it safe before it burns you to the ground.
Living lightning out of place
Inward journey's outer space
Take it hold it help it leave
Your loving my stumbling when did I get so graceful...
When did I ever learn to dance?
High standards mean that I'll never disappoint you as much as I fail myself.
I should have run, today.
I should have spent the moments between patients thinking about rehearsal instead of finding stilted and thready connections.
They fill a sort of craving, but never quite enough.
I should learn the violin.
And French- I am good at languages and shouldn't squander that talent.
If I only tried harder and worked more at it, I could be that girl.
But, the more I look around, the more I see I'm actually closer than I think.
"If I don't own it, it can't own me."
A simple observation, complex revelation
With heavy implications for my insidious disease.
I carry it with me like a banner or a torch
Like a blanket or a bear
Something I return to when I've nothing else to do
I realize it's good energy wasted
That I'd be more efficient if I could be
But it's just so damned comfortable.
Find another pattern, here
Find another out, another way to be fulfilled
Fear fakes it's influence with a pompous and empty threat.
And if I can ever be free,
I might have to learn to open my eyes again.
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