The ground dissolved beneath our feet
the stars were struck from our vision
this sinking sand once stone concrete
I don’t believe in sticks and stones
I think words can hurt more
They find a home inside your heart
and sink it to the floor
Words wrap themselves around your mind
corrupting all its streams
They pick your eyes until you are blind
They take away your dreams
These words
This is my empty space
Where I can speak without a face so that my thoughts float up to the surface of these tides in their own place
These words will weave a web around the patterns of my demise like seaweed on a sinking thing or dreams removed from undead eyes
There is a storm raging in the center of the sea and angry waves rushing mercilessly towards me
There is a hopeless pit of dread that threatens to swallow me and a heart that beats in broken threads of tragedy
There are the silver linings woven into days to light the hours of our moments and the madness of our ways
There are a thousand steps towards and then a single drop away
There is the unexpected gut ache of a growing disarray
Prayer
May our skin be porous enough to absorb the moment
Our eyes soft enough to take it all in
And our smiles bright enough to light our way
And in the silence I have learnt
That truth before is still
truth now
Even if the sound hid it for a
while
And in the silence I have learnt
That some friends before still friends now
and some friends before not friends now
And in the silence I have learnt how
to tell the difference
And in the silence I have learnt to
Feel the hurt and absorb it to
Dissect the bruise and question what it is about it exactly that makes me hurt and to find that thin strong thread of core truth and follow it to the point where it points out where my wound is and then further to where it understands how to help me heal
And in the silence I found an inward journey that went on for centuries and knew everything it needed to know instinctively
And in the silence I found an aching sadness that nothing is ever truly found that nothing is ever truly understood
But in this silence I also found a quiet joy in realizing that nothing is really ever truly lost. That it is right here, all the time. In this silence
And in this silence I found a power in the stillness
It is looking without watching. It is hearing while gently listening. It is a complacent passive understanding in observance
It is knowing,
Really knowing
I don’t
Count minutes; I count moments
I count sunrises, sunsets and
and
laughter, the knowing and the glowing shared connections
of mealtimes squished around the table- extra chairs please!
-the timelessly terrific, the
absolutely divine
-the laughing until crying
and offcourse -the fullyfed satisfied sighing
I don’t see the connective tissue of your eyes but the connection it inspires
the windows to your heart and mind; how they say everything in an instant and sometimes fly a million miles away distant
I don’t count time; it would compartmentalize that instant in a way that makes it ever distant.
Like a picture of a painting isn’t a painting at all, or how
a message to a loved one isn’t the same as a phonecall
When we could all choose to be here
-nearer to the Now that is so fleeting,
constantly appearing and disappearing
like a spark or a glimpse or an echo having just arrived
for an instance and then it’s gone into the always-seeable distance
like an evermoving wave always rolling with the times
we could just get on our boards, wait for it, paddle paddle jump and ride
I think
We’re all just surfing time
I can see that
it is broken and that kids know
better and
I wish that I could stop your
Pain but I know that from it
you are Growing
Life death life cycle
I stepped into the rabbit hole and
my soul lost its gravity and fell into
itself and updownflipside
-brace yourself for this scary ride
more scrambled than the eggs that you were cooking even if you tried
imagine what it would be for your imagination to imagine imagination then you have a glimpse into what it feels like to live as me 3 layers of thought away I don’t think what I think or what you think I think what I think you think I think and in that distance that out of breath belly distance
I forgot how to feel my way in the world
compartmentalized thoughts cut off and fragmented in their dust specs glisten in the sun trying to find a sentence but then it all
scrambles into one like a race with no end a breathing in and hysteria as if the
world was in pieces I’ve already accessed dementia the memories defeated what’s left is what’s left is a scrambled egg muttontop achey legs and stickchops
so just brace yourselves as all the words rush in as separate pieces and the world dissentegrates and we watch from a distant distance ceaseless
You keep saying
That time will tell but
why
can’t I be the one to tell my own time? True that
if it’s right then the fiction of it will disintegrate but if it’s right
for me then surely I should be the one to
distinguish my own facts from the fiction in light of my subjectivity?
Sometimes I feel as if time will not tell until it says something you want to hear but what if time is telling all the time and it’s just not what you are ready to allow?
Put on your
Game face ready to start the race and
Speak the part that speaks rather than the brittle raw art of the heart time to speak the speaks that speak the words that communicate the things that make movement
Time to move with it and see the commercial from the conscious that which connects and carved the expression of our faces that which is brutal and snappy not broken and crappy but on it like the edge of a pin on the skin of a floating balloon the creased eyes before impact the invisible boom time to speak that which speaks instead of only the gloom enough of the victim time to answer to instinct and enough is enough time to get to the tough and make our own steps and get with it
Time to realize that time is gone already while you were writing this. Time to put down the phone let go of that wish and make it alone because you certainly got this
pandaplatter 