what needs to be said

April 29, 2015 § Leave a comment

There are times when things need to be said.
There are times when they don’t.

There are times when the silence of observation becomes paramount, as the world spins around and my ideas of what is and isn’t are churned into a soup of grey.

Like the time when I looked down on you. When you finally stopped talking. When I saw that world of need open up through the clouds of your posturing.
Yes. I saw you. I understand… I just wish you had gone about this a little bit different. Yes, I know I have it in me. I know why you did this. Maybe, in the end, I really did need to be tricked again…
Hidden behind a host of words, was the most tender need. Something that could not be said, something that I could not have heard.

Not with words, anyway.

The universe seems to take delight in leading me by the nose into blind 90 degree corners. Or maybe, I just took too much comfort in the direction that I thought I was going.

There are words that are allocated for only the titillation of spirits. Phrases to invoke the invisible, the ancestors, the spirits of the wood.

There are movements allocated for only the seduction of the flesh.

Either way, I am a student of both. I lay my hands before me, and invite you to dance there. I promise to do my best to see through your veil and invoke both your spirit and your flesh…

The gifting

April 15, 2015 § Leave a comment

For the want of water,

I drank from the river.
For the want of air,
I took breath from the storm.
For the want of my spirit,
I joined hands with you
to sing to the ones
who feed us.
An offering was accepted 
and what came back was 
the overwhelming gift to walk
here on this earth
with my heart lifted to the clouds.
The earth flowed
and a star came down
to nestle in my belly.

Breaking point

April 6, 2015 § Leave a comment

There comes a time
Where I am finally tired enough
Worn down enough
Pained enough

Like a motorcycle going down the road
A breakneck speed, 
bolts flying off 
and the fringe is tattered
The suicide handles 
wobble a bit and 
sparks rise as each piece 
hits the road. 
Like a ceremonial Dancer
Where the thirst reaches a point
Where the skin almost breaks
Where the feet blister
And the knees almost give

Darkest before the dawn, they say

Where the will to hang on to 

that one last shred of evidence 
That gives procurement to the past
I let go of the hand 
Of that suicide jumper 
And watch her drift away from me 
into the air deep beneath bridge.
The expression on her face 
forever emblazoned in my mind.
I will breathe again.

Where Am I?

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