Do it for the money or the love
For the glory of him above
For the ones who came before
Or the ones who follow after
For the start of the quest
Or the close of a chapter
For the road not taken
For the ghost of the father
For a blind mother’s burden
For the wounds of the brother
Though the palms of your hands
Can hold no water
When the footsteps you take
Move the destination farther
When you seek one answer
But believe in another
When you see into me
And think only lover
Time flows not straight
In plain sight is the best cover
When the two sides flip
It’s still the coin that recovers
When it’s time to move up find a tower
When it’s time to move down find a well
When there’s no flow stay still
When life opens its eye…pull the trigger.
in setting light
sweet words with tea
comes summer's end
a sunset between friends
a slight brush of skin
the birth...of a feeling
and so, begins the fall.
it begins with an ache.
definitely an ache.
somewhere inside you
you don’t know where
the back of your teeth
your feet
your eyes
an ache.
you can be happy. you can feel all the pulses of
life within you, matching rhythm with the world.
you can feel everything continue forever
like the ocean
the mountains
the blanket of night
while inside you, remains an ache.
you can feel bigger than everything
bigger than everyone
see their hopes and dreams
their fears and failures
their shame.
and you hold their beating hearts in between the edges of your teeth
so alive and delicate and vital
demanding of it
the urge to bite down primal but irrelevant
and they’ll show you everything
show you the blood and sores and abandoned rooms
the sweat
the terror
the everything and anything so much bigger and blacker
with their hands inside of them
even in the calm of their voice you can hear
the nighttime anxieties like stones rattling inside glass bottles
they’ll show you everything and still swear they don’t believe in it.
they’ll see the blood on your hands and they won’t believe you did it.
you’ll tell them that you’ve torn it out, you’ve torn it all out
every last bit that seethed inside them
spreading infinite emptiness
you tell them it’s magic. real magic. not the stuff of unicorns and rainbows.
but the things that men go to war over when
the women stoically hold it between cool fingertips
just waiting for someone to ask the right question.
and they won’t believe you
because they’re so terrified of the blood they may find on their hands.
and that makes you ashamed of their blood on yours.
and throughout all this
it’s the ache. the ache that accompanies you
the ache that has always been there for you
the ache who has never failed you.
it is the ache that cries out into the night
using darkness to reach out for familiar hands
the ache searches for its own.
the ache uses you.
the ache renews you.
the ache can only find an equal.
but the ache is never more vindictive
than when it fears seeing behind a person’s mask
and finding emptiness
a lack
a void
an impenetrable stranger
the ache fears death.
the ache fears that it has pulsed and beat and
longed for its own echo
where never an echo has existed.
i put my trust in you
pushed as far as i could go
in the end it doesn’t really matter
because no matter how much you love someone
no matter how much you give and how much you
want to support
their wounds are theirs to keep.
their wounds are theirs to heal.
and if they can’t trust you in those painful places
if they can’t trust you enough to let go of their pain
if they can’t trust you to lead them out of the darkness
even though you know your love
is the brightest, most healing light
this is their choice
you have to respect that no matter
how much it hurts you.
the only thing you can decide
is how will you lead your life
how will you define your own happiness
how will you honor yourself and your
short time as this embodiment on this earth
even if it means letting go of something you
love so deeply
even if it means cutting out a piece of yourself
to set the rest of you free.
we’ve all been wounded in some way
life and humans have sharper edges than
they mean to have
it’s those of us who have been brave enough to trust
and have faith in light
who have found a way to heal.
but not everyone wants to heal.
sometimes scars and pain are the only friends
a person could count on to always be consistent
and that may be the saddest story of all.
i am not one of these people anymore.
i am not walking wounded.
i have been free for a long time
and with the right kind of love, i will
give everything without concern to my scars.
they will either come to you bravely
and accept you and the warmth of your
hands completely
their hands helping yours do the same
or clutching their wounds, they will
disappear into the night.
life is not in any one person’s hands.
the best you can do is be true to your highest self and try.