tear ducts

This thing you wrote, it brought me to the brink of my tears

but maybe the stitches weren’t good enough in the first place.

 

I did supply perforations instead…

see, I’m quite proud of the neatness.

 

I was kind of hoping you could just follow

the dotted lines

the euphoria…

evaporating from me in clouds,

raining back down

to drench me again,

even as I thought I was outrunning it,

energised by the grass under my feet

and the breath giving coldness of marble walls,

their vapour mixing with mine.

Their incongruous corrugation

oscillating to unheard music

helping to propel me

to the memory beyond.

But the hands reaching out

were not.

The face appearing

was not.

Confused by dream mediums

I dragged in the shallows.

The wave overtaking.

The gorgon emerging.

Stone icicles –

entombing my vapouric bliss.

Glistening more in the unreaching…

(self) juxtaposification

5

Rolled up in macabre
you loved/hated your web.

The self binding sinews
unknowingly degraded
by the light you exude.

You persevere…

ecstatically wallowing
frantically  swallowing,
but betrayed…

undarkness regurgitated.

Your blindness!
to the following of you
by heliotropic hearts…

 

Photo credit: Gilbert Hansen

hikikomori

alex-at-maslins-2015

I had the most interesting conversation with a dear, elderly friend recently. Every time I do, it makes me lament even more how our culture doesn’t value the wisdom of the elderly. There are times when I truly grieve over stories lost forever…

we talked about the fear of man…

the fear of God…

the misunderstanding of the fear of God and how radically it is exacerbated by the growing fear of other humans, the context being, that we believe humans were created in God’s image…

the astonishing kindness of anonymous bloggers, their anonymity injecting poignancy straight into my veins.

I told him about the phenomenon of hikikomori which fascinated him, but he immediately responded with words straight from his mature, listening heart, ‘no wonder people are afraid of God. We are forever doomed to create him in our image…’ or something to that affect. Ugh, my awful memory does not do him justice.

and this post does not do this issue justice. but i want to get in the habit of writing more regularly so this will have to do for now.

(His beautiful wife then joined in our conversation. And when I say beautiful, she really was. And when I say was, I mean, she died suddenly a few days later. And when i say that i will always be grateful our last conversation was in person, and not by email…
for these people embody the anonymous beauty I have found in the blogging world.)