A journey, in full

I loved the way her voice sounded like rasping nails over a washboard, stripling over the iridescent beat, the syncopated piano, the muted horn. It all rushed together, but you could hear her tell the story with a haunting grace. She was not shy or afraid, even speaking of the most horrific things. Watching her shine brightly, I was afraid of what I was becoming.

.

Now we're far away again, beyond civilization, out of reach. The warm sunlight is barely making it past the green canopy and I lay myself on the floor, looking up, allowing myself to find patterns in the leaves. Telling myself over and over how lucky I am, that I get to be here. I think of her beyond the need to be alone and I long to let her be part of my isolation. I contemplate what it means to feel safe and how I would love to let her feel it. 

.

Passing through that place with the joy of returning, I look for her there with a childlike happiness, excited and overjoyed. By now, I have so many stories to tell her, so many names of places I can't wait to let slip from my lips into her open ears. I hold myself as still as someone with such an eager heart can. And then I wait an eternity...

And I dream

I will pour myself 

Into her heart 

And back again

Asleep, not dreaming

A wordless song

Singing through my dreams

Blind sleep 

Beyond sleeping

And me, constantly lost in the space between 

Roses For You

Green as grass, slow silhouettes fade gently away

Leaving behind shadows of moss and wood, deep blue

And the dusk fades to moonlight, turning slowly to grey

And all that's left, is just this moment with you

Trouble

They said he was sly, but not like a fox, neither was he cunning. The trouble was his kindness. He had that voice, soft as cashmere, and those eyes that glowed with mischief and magic, too, and a sweet, wide smile, more infectious than the flu. He was so warm, he glowed. So, you never knew what'd struck you, until he did of course, even though you'd been warned that he was trouble.

Not Today

On a sunny day,  you never think about it, the fact that you could be afflicted by a flesh eating bacteria from a dip in the pool or choke on your own tongue as you take your next sip of beer. No, it never occurs to you, on a sunny day. Sitting in the tall grass a mile away, a murder could be using the daylight to see straight into your home, where you're comfortably enjoying the summer, leaving every window and door open for him. Could you be squished to a smear of red jam on the corner by a six tonne truck? Perhaps that one you've thought about, trucks are big and scary looking. But not today, not while the sun is high and warm above you and the clouds in the sky are as few and fleeting as the worries in your mind.

The Clearing in My Mind

It's very green above the hustle of The Valley, and I walk further up, up, up. I remember your description. Tall trees like spires. But then, forests have always been my church. Sunlight comes as blessings, dappled but finding its way to me, through the thick and thin. I live in the cadence of your words. Moss, and grass, and mud, and I trek up, up, up. To a clearing for coffee with a book. Peace, and greenliness, and a view. It's amusing the place I most frequently daydream of is one I've never been.

Juxtaposition

The feeling burned as it rose

Rushed and overcame them

Leaning, she stretched an arm out

Yearning, he did the same

They tossed violently in the night

Alone, in their respective beds.

On Love

Being in love

Is like

Letting a bunch of 3 year olds play with or near an electric fence
Letting a thief into your country's Fort Knox
Letting a serial killer into the room that your heart box is kept

Detailing

I have so much love
For the ones beautiful without trying
Passion that fills up the room
Enthusiasm lighting the corners of eyes
Wrinkles that don't apologise
Which are really, really old smile lines
Pressed in place by a lifetime of laughter
Despite the thorns
Neglecting to mention the hard times
Faces that talk without speaking
Eyes whispering secrets
Hands with stories to tell
Old scars like trophies
And the way hair falls over eyes
Gets tucked behind ears
Is never admired like before

Home

Come back
From wherever you are
Wipe the troubles from your brow
The ones that hide behind your eyes
And lose them in the spaces between my ribs
The love you seek
Waits patiently in my belly 
In the crook of my neck
Sits the salt you need to soldier on 
Uncertainty and bitterness
These are things I can swallow
And replace them with warmth and kindness
Pulled from my blood
The hollows of my bones
My marrow
Because everything 
All of me
If it's not for you
Then what's the point

Long Distance

And I awoke in the night to find a golden thread reeling from my heart, thin and nimble as silk, but strong like steel, moving silently with slippery slips, running across everything, through the seas and back across, out over land, beneath the eaves and over skyscrapers to where he was, in his bed, attaching itself to the place he had a picture of me, within his heart. 

Cosmic Fantasy

We go through life in search of our people
Because, we feel, that's where the magic happens
We try, with our minds so sharp,
To backward engineer the fabric of the cosmos
To see the signs (even if only in hindsight)
To believe a higher power looks out for us
So we can say that the universe is conspiring to give us what we want
That we have been led to this point. To this moment. That we're exactly where we're suppose to be.

We go through life in search of our people
Because, we feel, this will bring us comfort
Amidst uncertainty and disruption
Even if it is we, ourselves, trying to disrupt
And yet, still be comfortable
Gradually getting comfortable with discomfort.

We go through life in search of our people
Not realising that within the greatest risk,
The highest discomfort,
Our true reward lies.

We go through life in search of our people,
Even though the universe is not made of them
And still we are all a part of the same tribe in the end.

This view

I want to live everywhere
See everything
Meet everyone
I have been staring at these trees too long

Secrets

Some day
I will keep a book
And write in it
All the things you never told me

And it will have just one page

Diamonds

I may have amnesia for everything. But there are things I'll never forget, like the way you speak, the feel of your palm, the things you've told me and that expression you get when you're about to call me crazy again. And these things I'll hold inside, crushing down on them, burying them beneath the weigh of my beating heart, heavy from so much running. I'll hold these memories down forever. Until they crystalise and I am left with just a sparkle in my eye, the diamond of that memory, so glorious as the shining moment of its birth. Or maybe just a tear.

Seed

And everything pulled me in different directions. I was a seed, airborne with feathery wings, and the thing that drew me swiftest was the sight of you. But eventually, I couldn't see any longer.
I'm still drawn, still tossed and thrown and flown. And I can't land. I cannot see. I cannot be. Yet every known wind carries me. Until I don't know who I am, and nothing matters anymore.

The purpose is the purpose of the purpose

Not for the polite or easily offended

(I sincerely urge you not to read this if you are in the above category)

Occasionally,
   on a mild afternoon,
You may travel to a calm place 
Fitted with cool smooth marble
And, there, let a stream of clear liquid
Eschew gently from beneath you
So serenely 
That it encourages you to pen
Just a few words
On peeing.

Simplicity

Like muck children we were
Born into the sun
Playing on beaches with no sunscreen
Wearing skirts and dresses without stockings
Ours was a carefree existence

We needed no sophistication
Not to know the names of wines
Nor the shame of less than adequate etiquette
In fact, we were inarticulate
And we never stopped
Not even once
To check someone's "last scene at" on whatsapp

Tiny

From the sky their houses look so small. Streets so narrow. People less and trees tiny. 

And their magnificent buildings so minute, with little doors, tiny windows, and trees. Oh and trees, so so many little trees. And little nests in them with even little-er birds. 

And tiny weddings. Little lights. Small dreams. And tiny plans. And little places to hang your petit coat when an honest day's work is through.