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 unease fits like a glove
keeping me alert to my comatosis.
Embraced by discomfort
I marvel at the truth in cliche
the way i normally would,
jaw dropped, scratching my mind, lingering way too long
before inserting chocolate
into my mouth
and the linger…
what door I came through
to get here.
the here of you.
I would board it up
with orange tape
strung like the scent of warning,
and burn the clothes on me
that are weft with mourning,
sewing these curtains instead,
these curtains of you imbued thread.
the windows left bare to the healing…
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
The face appearing
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…
Rolled up in macabre
you loved/hated your web.
The self binding sinews
by the light you exude.
to the following
of heliotropic hearts…
Photo credit: Gilbert Hansen
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.