Like Sunlight, Like Fog

I’m often told I’m confident
(like the march of blazing sun
across the hills of night
awakening each day)

I’m told I look like rushing waves
that roll in from the sea
and pounce upon the sand
in joyful swelling sounds

This makes me laugh inside my heart
because I’m more like fog
that silent moves unsure
which way it wants to go

But still committed to the march
inexorable and slow
to be true to myself
in soft embrace sold out

to be completely there
and wrapped around all things
I cherish in the hug
of insubstantial presence

there, and yet untouched.tumblr_ntubpx3qIm1qm86t3o1_1280

Reader, You’re Done (Constance, You’re Good)

You are welcome to read…but don’t ever expect anything more than that.

Oh, there can be reconciliation, certainly!  Rivers are so easy to cross, you know…but you haffa get wet feet to do it, and maybe even slip on some rocks and fall all the way in.  But the water is shallow, never over your head except when you are small in your thinking, and then it’s you that shrinks, not the river that grows deeper.

But that access…to walk around on the pillowed floor of my tender heart in your dirty work boots and me cleaning up after with my love?

No.

Constance…you who is here as the Constant Reader?  You are not “Reader”…those from the past who sometimes stop here aghast and offended and unwilling to see what isn’t there in that Book they venerate but keep in a cage lest it get free and consume them.

And as to the four…if you ever come here and it isn’t too late…the road leads ever on, and my heart is ever open.  It is not capable of having a door against you (yeah, I know, I know…that only validates your claim about me not understanding boundaries…it’s true:  when I love someone utterly the most precious gift I know how to give is access and no barriers or limits…I guess that shows I am a fool in love, for sure).

But my heart will always be open and it’s chambers cleansed with my tears, purified with my regret, and perfumed by my love.

The Birth of My Fourth

it’s a crushing weight
tangible presence
part and parcel
of the essence
of this thing

just like red is
the truth of blood
and copper is
the air exhaled
by laughing lungs

it’s the love I feel
for your fire-self
your glowy soul
alive and strong
and destined here

to speak with laughs
to laugh with song
to sing in truths
to love in speed
to linger ever

as the crushing weight
here in my chest
upon my heart
this bloody living
love of youaaa