Keeping my eyes open to the pain of our society makes my heart strong;
I return to the new day with a force as mighty as the love of a thousand mothers.
Our silence is white noise:
Soap bubbles of empty joy.
I am being used by grief,
I am a body willing to feel it
And so it comes to me for escape.
The girth of my compassion cannot cover the world of pain I see.
Are we alone?
Can I walk beside you for a while,
and feel myself against your breathing soul
from the depth of our ancestors’ memories
our will to reconcile is fierce and self-forgiving,
and we must
so you we un-get what we thought we got
and get what we need
Before we forget and forgive,
we must live
the sorrow that bleeds from our cuts,
the rage that falls from our neighbors’ wounds.
It is a grief that grips,
like the embrace of a last longed-for bond
with the one that left violently.
Become what you have undone,
and remember to cry
for the places that got
forgotten in your trying.
The walk is long, I wait with a hard hand against my crotch as if to hold in all of my desire for fear it will fan war and set fields on fire.
“Between my legs there is fire and will,” she wailed.
“Drain the fight from your clit,” she replied.
Patiently alive in your arms,
I ache for continued release.
Just invite me in a little further,
The wanting has not waned,
I am like a gibbous moon,
growing outward toward you, my love.
All of this seeking has lead me to the comfort and simplicity of one thing: love more.
I am a good woman,
The shock of a life lived on the edge
Wears my skin thin
And now I feel everything.
Now I have the fire in my eyes,
Whenever I want, I can pull a tail
And become something wild.
I am lit by this life.
Wild inside for the next breath.
Remember now the soft silence
that invites you into the next day
promising nothing and telling you that is enough.
You are a beautiful gift and it is time you are given
These tickled words that fall from my lips are yours, to eat and to keep.
I will tell you about the angels that live in my eyes, but first,
please tell me why there are so many broken wings in your heart.
I am a dancing thief, happy to have stolen me back.
Beyond the summer sun silence and the moon’s quiet wisdom,
A great Sorrow lives,
It awakens me every morning
and returns when I lay for sleep.
She is a loyal love.
I understand because hearts are delicate when they are open
Guessing the count of her lovers,
she grinned at the thought of those
wide-hearted souls she has left in her wake.
Please look directly into my eyes
So I can see myself being loved.
painting by #mishmoshpoetryandart, Atticus Singingbird