Tag Archives: moon

testimony

A re-write of an old poem. I’ll probably re-write it forever.

testimony

you stand on my coast,
lacing the air with your scent;
until you are more scent than you

your words a dummy trail –
crumbs, leading to an empty room
where the sound of each syllable in my ear is more real than your fingers

this space now, so full of un-you,
how does it live so brightly without even one particle of light?

you are far from here, and so am I;
a story frozen in pictures.

 

I stand, naked
asking the moon the way
Yemaja!
but moons are made of longing.

 

I want to be led down a river
paced and perfectly navigated-
released to a lucid and easy end to our dreaming

I want to touch slowly
eyes and fingers-
giving you my face
and finding yours inside the cracks between hope and what you were

unzip me with a pure breath
and I will find the space below trust to hold whatever’s left
for you

step off with me and we will free fall in a relentless healing-
singing ourselves clean,
saying grace to our crackings

give me the face of the lion and I will kiss and rub her ears
knowing fierce is will and will is juice and juice is what fires the pistons of joy

bring me your spent infant and I will ooze into your cradle
where we can sleep and wake again-
another sacrifice on the altar of Something More-
born, man and woman,

loving ourselves undone-
surrendering to the movement of tides,
our sweat a baptism,
breathlessness breathing us
and our skin teaching us where we don’t end.

 

you pull my cord,
and the ocean shows me a light that has never belonged to her
or the moon.

how am I so slow remembering my own reflection?

there is no place to be apart-
even in darkness,
angled as we are,
the sun is real

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Filed under Big G., lisa goettel, poetry, writing

dreamless sleeping

I’m feeling acutely
the difference between responding to my life
and being the choreographer of it

how having no invitation or opportunity to dream
takes its subtle but steady toll
I’m writing and the words stop
start stop
(sigh)
going fuzzy and lethargic
till not even a good night’s sleep renews me

cue my will
that force who takes me swimming against the current
or at least has me grab a branch in this rushing river
rushing toward the waterfall of the familiar

cue my wisdom
who steady as the moon cycles light and pulls my tides
reminding me this morning
to do the thing I’ve been avoiding

this risk of unpleasantness
and fear of learning
(read: doing things badly)
cloaked in kindness
opalescent
stealing through the night
blocking the moon

I want my breath back.

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Filed under life, poetry