Tuesday, December 31, 2013
eve eve eve, with no need to apologize
i don't have normal words.
i have acrostic poems and sketches and ribbons of choruses dancing the gray-sky winds.
i have 1,000 homes and healing hips.
i have my mind and the chance for existentialism or grins.
i have the gift of what's come from giving up on where i'm from. trying less to impress. trying true to breathe through the anxiety of not needing to be somebody.
i have coffee, black and bitter.
i have books, better and better.
i have chest-swollen-thanks under my sweater.
i have moon-bright-trust tucked under cover.
i have a chastity belt around my bruised bottom and a sense of safety even though i'm broken.
i have thank you's overdue and your welcome's i haven't felt through.
i have more spirals than i can count.
i have sacred memories i won't write about.
i have mirrors and mirrors and mirrors of love.
i have the wild above and the thick tangled below.
the center throws of now all dancing around my body like flames of infinity i don't need to control.
find me in awe, down on my knees, praying please please please:
shout yes across the ether, and yes into my weathered heart.
yes to the ache in me that pleads to break free from humanity.
find me whispering: this, this, this is it.
stay. it's all okay.
tenderness. cracks. new growth. laughs.
a strange freedom from longing.
a weird sense of belonging
small child, still wild, ever-allowed to make messy mistakes and infinite retakes.
all for the sake of feeling at home in myself.
i hold the wealth.
there's nowhere to go.
stay. there's a way to be strong and simple here.
there's a way to clear the need to be anything but free.
love calls me to my natural height.