Journey to Your Deepest Self

My Hard Shell

My hard shell My old friend Protector You’ve tried To keep me safe From assault The pain of opening Yearning for love’s arrival Yet once more Disappointment Heart breaking Tearing, twisting, bloodied Buckling, recoiling Hopeless, abandoned No longer able to stand tall No longer able to be In this desolate place. My hard shell My old friend Protector It’s time To be the fool To put you down To let real love arrive Not once more But for the first time Has love evolved? Has love matured? So something new can happen That’s been yearned for So long in the making It’s time To gather courage To allow What was only a dream To be born In this dark place. My hard shell My old friend Protector I’m willing To open To be real To feel No longer a shadow Of my self Find out what is left When I let go Of how it’s been When I open And let love enter Gently, tenderly Feeling me Touching me Deeply My long awaited lover Arriving in the darkness Of the pain that I’ve known All that has existed Until now. My hard shell My old friend Protector You grow porous No longer can I pretend To hide behind the...

Dream of Beauty

“There aren’t very many things better than playing drums with your friends while watching beautiful women dance,” he said. If I had come to the dance, would I have been counted among the beauties? What if I was clumsy, out of step? What if I was the only one who didn’t know the dance? What if everyone could see I was the blemish Upon their collective face? “You’re pretty. You can stay. But your friend, she’s gonna have to go,” he said. What if I didn’t mind that I didn’t know? And what if I was able to laugh and smile and love myself anyway? Would all of the dancers and all of the drummers and all of the others wish I hadn’t come? Would they push me out, lock me out, hate me together? “So what if you ain’t good looking. At least you’re faithful,” he said. It’s happened before, you see- many times. To me and to others. Right in the middle of un- self consciously enjoying my self- being singled out as the bad one, the wrong one, the one who shouldn’t be here. The mistake. “Wipe that smile of your face! You look like a fruit fly on a banana,” he said. Most of me...

Monday, Noon

  It’s Monday, noon. Her oiled hands sandwich his right foot and she feels them conform to his shape, pressing into the curve of his arch and stroking the sloping top of his foot. She is seated at the end of the bed on a low stool and in order to reach him, her legs are spread wide, like a cellist, flattening herself against the edge of the bed. Falling into the cadence of his breath and his presence, her body begins to slowly rock with the rhythm. Leaning in and pulling away to the music of the moment. From time to time her eyes drift closed and her head tilts to the side as if listening deeply. She glances out the window for a moment and remembers another dying man whose feet she held. Her mind wanders and she feels her heart crack open, melting with the realization of the innocence of the old men’s feet. After a lifetime of striding through the world, these feet are so tender and sensitive and receptive. So like a child’s. Since becoming the mother to a son 16 years earlier, she can see the boy in every man. She wonders if he thinks he’s died already or if he wishes for...

Francesca

  Her wild, velvet need is  a smile, like a naked question Her deep, feline dance makes his fever flower open; wakes the secret prisoner celebrating the delicious lie of cool, liquid why on why. Shake off the question or surround vast eternity like a woman pulling and sucking. Give God some of your lip. Laugh icily, growl, crap, kiss, bleed. The yesterday-you is over Eat cake and pie then listen: Warm, caramel trust can squirm in here. Embrace this blind child Say yes to her desire, perfuming the morning with your ocean voice and...

Another Way

She didn’t know there was another way Another lover she could have The hatred she knew as her friend Used it to keep her alive Used it to feel alive She didn’t know another way She didn’t know love wanted her She’d been rejected so long ago Rejection knocking the wind out of her Gasping for breath that didn’t come She imploded wishing it would all end She didn’t know another way She yearned to believe that it could be different Terrified to open to another reenactment Guarded against the pain she nursed along Not knowing it was her choice Not noticing the change Included her if she chose To open to another way She’s getting braver Willing to know herself and to learn Willing to know she’s done the best she could Willing to risk it all For something different to be born Something worth living for Something that brings waves of blessed relief Calming, soothing, healing all the places that were hurting She’s realizing that it is her choice To open to another...

On the Side of the Road

She’s no one I’ve been In this lifetime. Standing in a burnt, barren landscape The wind ceaselessly blowing The sky ceaselessly grey, She is a little child Left for being a burden. And I don’t know Who I’ll be When I walk in the door. I can’t see a path to you- To us. So I’m feeling my way Backwards Through the darkened rooms Of our house; A house haunted By the echoes Of expectation, desire and Something Else- And the fading after-image Of our children’s belief in Us. How their hearts break open Like eggs So fragile, so defenseless When we separate. I hold her hand In mine now And together we make a place Where something green Can grow. And it’s terribly, terribly Far from...
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