Softly, fully we bloom into these bodies
And boom and womb are atomic.
What can one say for the abrasion of our violent arrival into brighter worlds?
In a field at night I saw my mother gather stars, picking each like a red ripe cherry from the sky
And her smile is what captured me.
That was when I knew I wanted to be electricity in her veins.
I traveled from the world of the cosmic divine, made a steep decline down onto my fathers inarticulate tongue and sang through his ribs as the explosion of white travelers fought for their positions in the atmosphere of her body.
I wanted to be there to greet you first, but darkness drowned you away from my life like a wave and the thirst for strangers followed me like a sexual awakening when the sun burns your eyes and the man by your side asks if it was alright, but you can’t recall his name in the light of day, because they all say they love you, it’s a word used to open the sky, a word to be born by.
Filed under Adventure, creative, Journey, Life, Love, Memory, Poem, poetry, Sex, Sexuality, Soul, Space, Stars, travel, writing
Can you catch death from an owl, or freedom from a butterfly?
Wisdom & transcendence.
I have walked along the palace walls and witnessed the loneliness of the queen; the things she has seen and been above, and the absence of true love in all the stars we wish upon. Saw princes turn into demons and princesses hide away in dark places, praying to false saviours in the sky.
I have rode trains near ancient remains and felt the sorrow of the broken stone goddesses, who are a testament to the war we wage against all that is different.
I sat with you one winter night and you held my arm tight, trying to catch my pulse. It froze like a piece of glass and lodged into my heart.
Midnight arrives and I skate down the river, to the edge of the city. I stare up at the lights in the sky and wonder if it matters that there’s life on other planets if it’s all the same as this.
When I was twenty I drank a bottle of vodka and disappeared. The truth appeared to be nothing but a blur on the horizon. When I woke up I was sober and nearing forty. I found I had missed nothing. Being awake or asleep, life still carries on in the same way with or without us. We have gravity to blame.
I decided to become an astronaut and float above the world, alone. Out here in the dark no one sees me. I hear the desperate pleas of the lost ones back on earth, crying for something, anything to take it all away. Some pray for little things; like jobs, children, and marriage. Some pray for bigger things; like freedom, truth and love. Not one of them sees how futile their efforts are. Not one of them cares for the things beyond.
In space you are weightless and mute. You can’t hear the sound of bombs going off in the name of love, because bombs don’t even matter and love is only a word. Nothing can touch you when you are free, not even gravity.
Filed under Astronaut, creative, Death, Displacement, dreams, Earth, Eternity, Freedom, Gravity, inspirational, introspective, Life, Longing, Loss, Love, Moon, Mortality, poetry, Sorrow, Soul, Space, Stars, Time, Tragedy, travel