Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Writing Dark Moments

Words turn into serrated black claws ripping their way across the page.
Dark moments, exhausting the pen, muddy blood of emotion.
I should be afraid to write them, but my will is to pull your heart out and show you it beating, dripping in my palm... so you can see it, feel it, and perceive the pain that I write. My only fear is that you won't.

Monday, May 17, 2010

Sometimes Mosaic

Sometimes we need to rip off the wrapping to see inside.
Sometimes we need a breakdown before a breakthrough -
The darkness of womb before the light of birth,
Reborn.

If only every tear down preceded a rebuilding
but sometimes, nothing is put back together.
Sometimes, the egg shells still lie scattered from the fall.
Less a rebirth, than a shifting of sands -
blown distant
singed by sun
dry solitude.

A breakdown, tearing off the pretty paper
that held the gift together,
exposing the reality and rawness of solitary self.
Reminding of mortality, fragility... grace.

Sometimes, we can patch and repaper
Sometimes, cover, take-back, lick and stick
torn tissue
back to form...
No longer a strong solid support
but a mature, majestic, pieced together
mosaic.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Kind Love

Obsidian Smooth
dripping, melting me
softening edges
malleable mood
malleable me
hands meld
heating
molding the space between us
touched together
two lives
strong enough to stand apart
strength enough to gently touch hearts
A kindness surrounds us
flows and bubbles around the love
tickling, lightly, living, breathing
Obsidian smooth