Monthly Archives: October 2013

power

I don’t have the time or energy
to help you feel more comfortable
with my lack of comfort
with my pain

I cannot make it my problem
I do not have the resources right now

I am unable
at this moment
to babysit you
soothe you back into
seeing me as complete
to help get you somewhere
closer to your own comfort zone
to find a way for you to put me back inside
your definition of me
see me as what
you think I am

I am busy in here
and in pain
have work to do
I cannot help you right now

but do not mistake my lack of comfort
my pain
my inability
to be something familiar for you
my process
this river of emotions
I must watch and sometimes even choke on
as it flows downstream
for weakness

for this stream is cutting
a canyon through me
growing ever wider and deeper
whose impact
product
will only be able to be
measured
after the flood has
ended
after the river has ebbed

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shed some light on it

Using Every Day Poems‘ prompt again today. The prompt is “shed some light on it” and with some help from Jane Siberry’s song, “Calling All Angels”.

it flies out in every direction
as she moves through time and space
even down into the Mother with each step
they seem to be a few inches deeper than the surface
those footfalls
sinking into the soft sweet Belly of the Divine One

careful
considered
measured
but still
bona fide
still just her
in-brief
condensed
rich
boiled down
to the
marrow
the thickness

feeling her halting way through space
through time and back
testing them with her heart’s wet index finger raised
gauging their direction
still not sure

“How much weight?
how much?
Then it’s how long?
and how far?
And how many times …

before it’s too late?

Calling all angels. Calling all angels.”

she calls them daily
waiting politely
for them to respond
needing their hand
at her elbow
to move through

this dance
it seems to be more about collision
than moving with
she wants to be able
to slide through and between all those
molecules
atoms
but so far anyway
seems to be
more about crashing into them
to watch them fall around her
aching with the impact

she treads carefully
carrying that old record
like vinyl
inside her
playing and playing
nonstop
until she suddenly hears it
feels it
and calls for a sudden
shocked
Halt!
that’s not mine
she shouts only to herself
wretched in the discovery

how can that old record
still be playing
when it’s author has departed
who is playing that!?
she shouts again
Stop!
That’s not mine!

can’t I just be as clean
and clear
as I AM
as I came in
why must I run
this gauntlet

feeling like she must
prove herself
in some holy bloody way
to deserve her new skin
those muscles and nerves
doubts even the
Light
sometimes
because it gets too mingled
and contaminated by
the suit
to be able to separate