I do shed tears, these days
(and nights…it is strange to wake
and find the wet residue of sorrows
dried and digging at the corners of my eyes),
I also shed dreams too
I dreamed, last night
(last night…it is strange to wake
and find the dry remnants of dreams
moist and pressed, pushing into the spaces between me and my pillow),
I also shed tears too
I dreamed that I walked lands crying
and my tears fell on red sands glistening
(my tears glistening, not the sands, they lay leering, skulking, glaring flat and angry).
(the ones in my dreams, the ones with no shadow)
my tears on red sands sizzled
because I had no shadow, they had no shadow
(the tears and me, not the sands and dreams)
and then in that glaring sun unbridled, that staring star unfiltered
they (my tears) became pearls
(like the armpits of abalones, who also learned to live without shadows)
(my tears, not the abalones, or the red sands, or the shadows)
became pearls of My Mother, the Mother of Pearls
(born of tears shed on red sands glaring, tears glistening and without shadow)
and then I saw, Her (not shadows or sands) walking there,
sowing in tears and reaping in pearls with nary a diamond in sight
(because diamonds have shadows and slinky songs and glittery platinum brittle best friends)
and She turned to me, She bid me pick them up
(the pearls, not sands and shadows)
and take…eat…and I did and where they lay the sand was gone
(like shadows flee daylight)
and green grass jumped lush into my eyes with verdant glee!
And the pearls tasted like honey
(and clear thirst-quenching shadow-clearing life)
and the pearls became glory within me
and I rose up on glory, I rose up in glory,
glory within me and glory in the air
(and the pearls of my Mother, not the sands and shadows)
and I saw my shadow, distant and crumpled and pinned to the ground
for always by arrows and spears and the knives
of those children of red sand and shadows.
And just as I began to wake
I realized that ever would they gather there,
around that shadow pinned and empty of all save their vitriol and hate
while I walked free but achy across the red sands, with no shadow
between me and that stark sun except for the glory
that’s given by pearls plucked from green grass so verdant
that used to be red sand hot
on which was shed precious
tears without shadow.
So I wake, each time
(not to day, not in night, I wake to me)
I wake and realize I do not need a shadow
to stand between me and the sun and some something
to tell me that I am, I am.
I just need those tears
shed on sands red and glaring
become pearls from my Mother
to wrap me in glory and glory wrapped in me
and no shadow
my shadow forever
Beautiful and sad and moving. 🙂
Thank you Kat…I am exploring the theme of sadness as a subset…so perhaps there are larger “containers” in the poem that sadness is inside of…(giggle)
It is a poetic game of where is Waldo
Sounds like fun? 🙂
Good luck in your pursuit!
Silly Kat lol! That was a clue for ya to look again in the poem lol
lol And now you take me by the hand and lead me back to where I’m supposed to be! 🙂
Giggles snort love it
Kitty-Clue: pearls are formed around grains of sand, and shadows weigh more than the entire space between every body of matter in the universe, minus black holes
omg this is amazing…So emotional and beautiful. LOVE this one!!!
Thank you Lynda…I am really trying to make this gristmill season productive, and allow it to truly transform me.
Transition is one thing, but transformation…ahhh! Now that would be an outcome indeed, yes?
As always, so blessed when a poetess of your caliber likes my poems.
OH…and one thing I had so much fun with was the recitative, and using parentheses to let the theme repeat on different levels
Reblogged this on Jessica A Bruno (waybeyondfedup).
Elsewhere in internetland I have something which reads: “Attempting to be the grain of sand that makes a pearl”.
The endeavor of pearl making only comes through stressors created by foreign objects: dementors, haters, those who don’t “intention” to See, etc.
You are a lovely rope of pearls, Sis.
The sands of tribulation,
to Your transcendence.
*charissa sits in the sparkle-glow of this comment and tries so hard to drink the whole glass, even if it snorts out her nose cus she refuses to stop and breathe*
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