Saturday, January 28, 2017


I am a specter of my former self
Holding joy at arm’s length
Often further
I do not understand it
When there is disease and poverty and hate and death
Dealt out with pain so harsh it steals one’s breath
Yet maybe joy is how I deal with it all
Laughing amongst the killing fields
A flower thrown in amongst the shields
Which defend all sorts of un-imaginables

These things, this lore, of what is not tangible
These things are so difficult to grasp
I have to open my hands, open my heart
Open my ears, accept the dart
Of tension and paradox and mystery
This is the way to jump into the fray
And still dance all along in the fury

I might just not be 
I might just not be done with this wonder
This is the seemingly torrid truth of it all
I never get to the answer
I always dive deeper into the question
I never dream, I never dance at the ball

So full circle I’ve come
Full circle I’ll go
Until the gravity fields pull me right out of my row
I have looked upon all this circumstance, 
and found
This is not where I dream, that is not where I dance

I must learn to be kinder to myself
I must learn to take hold of the unknown
Cuddle it like a puppy sleeping, safe in my arms
Knowing one day it could grow up and be vicious
But it could also grow up and be bold
Beautiful, warm…

If I’ll only love, if I’ll only love…

I’m not sure I am any longer a specter…


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