Spread your fingers wide, arms raised
towards the sky, like the sun
is pulling you to new heights,
to open spaces now that your hands
are no longer wrapped tight around your body
with impossibilities repeating.
Meet your feelings as peace doves,
treat their wounds, gather up their spilled blood.
Let the daylight soak into the scars on your exposed skin,
breathe in to your love coming home.
At first the smallest shudder,
like an uneven surface, a speed bump in the road
and you forget to slow down,
find a steady pace,
ignore the warning signals
when you’re the only person in the race.
Can you break a touch softer,
tread a little lighter?
Why run over budding flowers
when you could choose to watch them bloom?
You can yell at me till spring turns to summer
turned to leaves turning yellow
but still these demons shout louder.
Here arrives as a long winter path paved with ice,
falling facts shatter on impact
across my frozen feet. It’s snowing glass
and their light rays bend blind eyes to a different reality;
one convinced the past is all that’s left of me.
I pinch the sun between two fingers,
beg for the burning present,
just one beam to heat each muscle,
aching to move.
Steady rhythm, pounding feet
and rising heart beat, caught in a battle of wills
with a maze of mental hills to climb
but covered in a sweat that is finally mine, from my skin,
a body I can again feel alive in through the out breath
where you left, no, where I left you
to starve on the side of a deserted road
with nowhere to escape my precious sunlight
and waiting a lifetime to be rescued.
Now it’s your turn to go through hell,
hear the bells ringing as your time has come
and I am running,
running with power,
power running through my blood.
Half asleep, your lips dance from the palm of my hand to the tips of my fingers, then tucked under your cheek. You breathe deeply, soaking contentment into the pillow with three words on the outbreath and air I can feel.
I will stay here, sixty minutes spent in stillness but tuned in to every twitch.
I could stay here, write an essay from the ink on your skin.
Can I stay here, somewhere I can keep this?
Quiet, dear mind,
when thinking breaks you apart
cascade your confessions onto this page
till you come away empty.
Feel, dear heart,
numbing the strain does not soften the break
fear not the flood of sensations
for with your rhythmic beat they will dissipate.
Presence, dear body,
one day you will feel at one with yourself
and your reach will be infinite;
here you can tend to your trauma.
Freedom, dear soul,
rest with expectation for the next adventure
and leave behind everything
that resists your balletic wandering.