Archive for January, 2012

January 23, 2012

Midnight’s Sonnet.

And what of narwhals?
And if they could speak, what stories would they tell? And if these are real, then there must be unicorns. 

And of the night? As if it were but a piece of velvet fabric with holes poked thru.

And what of this skin I’m draped in? Who first wore this robe? Whose history am I wearing? And what of the Indian woman who fell in love with the man from France, who bore his son and began this lineage that is me? Who have I passed on to my son?

And if my great-grandmother’s great-grandmother were my age now, would we get along? Would I bare her deep doe eyes and would she my rebellion?
 
“My face is a mosaic of the ones before it…” the girl said. I think of this mosaic that is me. This mosaic of hard times, of pirates, of corsets, of prarie women, of men of the first war, of children who grew to see the future of automobiles and lightbulbs. I am a fiber thread together by their hopes and dreams.

And then I stare hopelessly at the stranger in the looking glass.

And if You’re coming back, why are You waiting? And what of free will? And if You’re waiting until Your last child finds You, when will You ever return? Isnt free will the one thing You left to us? The one thing You are unsure of? And if You argue that You know everything, then are we all predestined? If you claim Y0u know all, but leave free will to us, then why keep us in this limbo? Why wouldnt You just make it as it will be? And then I’m left to wonder… Am I really going to Heaven when I end?

And what is love and why are we bound to it’s rules? And is there really just one soulmate for each of us, or are we really capable of loving many others? As many as we need? Because we are, afterall, brothers. Brothers linked back to a leaf and an apple.

And what of Adam and that Secret Garden? I shake my fist at a booked claimed Holy and hot tears stain and blood bleeds from bit lips as I try my hardest to understand this Holy of thousands of white pages trimmed in gold full of black and red letters. And as much as I want and as hard as I try, I can’t make it’s sense.  And I try to find You there. And then theres Adam. He sat at a pond’s edge with You.  And this makes confusion and blood and hot even more. 

I want to take off all my clothes and lay my back to the sand and feel. I want to feel until tears seep from their gathering place…
I want to feel until I see narwhals in the velvet.

January 15, 2012

Wanderling.

I lay. Looking up at the gilded fairies that dance in the window sun.  Before now, thats what they’ve always been. Gilded little sun fairies. Before now, they held more magic then C.S. Lewis.

Now its just dust. 

Truth seeped into my head thru ways of sticks and stones. But the words?  Whoever said words dont hurt… well, I wish I lived in their wonderland.  The words are what broke my bones.

I remember trying to count them… all those swirling, dancing fairies that floated above my head. I remember wondering what it would be like to just be one of them. A wanderling. A lost and fluttering tiny soul just being happy with the sun.

As I sit up, my wreckless hair disturbs and gold is sent flying out of control. Funny how close real life parallels such wonder…. once you move. you disrupt.

But maybe thats what makes life so much more, because the gilded sun specks never actually leave. They just get throw and tossed and then, once gathered, they keep on glittering. In silence. In beauty. In simplness. In happy.

Sitting in the window sun, reflecting on my disruption, focusing on the silence, the beauty, the simplness, the happy of life.