stasis

Living is what I do When I’m not thinking of you I’m often in stasis these days The sun warms my shoulders Into feeling less old than My bark-like skin declares I spend my days exposed Like light can appease thirst And bring life to dried dirt But it won’t And I’m left fiddling With […]

stasis

odds

They say I’m cold
but I’m just old
not easily moved
by beats oversold
I bide my time
and hold out to find
the rhythm to make me
shake and unwind
to a place and time
where nothing matters

Rats scurry by
the idle chatter
of plans laid in the dark
only to shatter
when the morning comes

But I’m the keeper of secrets
the stasher of lies
I hold them neatly folded
pressed tight to my side

Though they be small
their weight is immense
they pull on my skin
and on my bones
until I hone my senses
enough to remember
only bets against the odds
count as a win

Though I thought
my heart would splinter
seems I’ve made it
through winter
still I’m only tinkering
with the thought
of letting go

So I place my chips
on red again
though everything is black
and nothing seems
even to hint
of colours coming back

Originally published on jotnrot on April 14, 2018

(re)vision

I was kinder then,
when you
were still entwined
with my possibilities

Now disentangled
and parted,
you have lost
all potential to tug
at the blinders
that helped me see you
in a better light

objective

you never sought me
but to redirect the image
reflected in my eyes

small confession

I am ashamed
that I preferred you
when you were
still searching,
wavering, wondering
and becoming
rather than now
that you are
decided, defined, done
and moving on

why I’d rather not know

maybe we abided  miscommunication
because asking
would mean knowing
and knowing would mean
having no more need
for communication
and then a silence like
this would reign

because

when I saw you
words bubbled
to the surface
reflecting universes
of all that never was
and would never be

uninevitable

so much is lost
to wrong time and place
too soon
too late
and parallels
that can never touch
regardless
of proximity
or mutual
understanding

the good li(f)e

Every time I look at you
I’m reminded of how I pay
for having taken the lifeline you threw me
when I was sinking in the mud
How you pulled me onto the shore
gasping for any kindness
How you saw in me the drive to survive and conjure temples from rubbish
How you tethered me with comforts
and loaded me with purpose
long enough so I wouldn’t perceive
that the shore was on an island
I’d never find the strength nor will enough to leave

But most of all I am reminded
how I long for the mud again

root mother unearthed

Mother of mothers
with generations
nestled in the crooks and folds
of arms, skin,
swinging from gnarled joints
shaping wisdom with your hands smelling of soil
An unbreakable force of time and ages
Etched into your stern face

But I know how that face
longed to smile in wonder
I know why you doted on that doctor
There was nothing licentious in your attention
His knowledge unearthed a cavern where there was room
To hear yourself speak as someone other than that myth
To be proud of something other than the accomplishments of those you bore
To laugh, dance
and shout your name
The one they discarded
when you were grafted to the family tree
To carve their history into your skin