It cannot be so
How often I've cried out
in silent tongue
to be saved
from myself
in the middle of the night
too afraid
to move
horrified the answer
may be beyond the
capability of my
own two hands
so small
I find it strange that we search
our whole lives for love
as though it were the
final treasure
the solemn purpose of people
in movies and magazines.
Yet when it comes to your door
one morning with calm eyes to delive itself
you realize it alone is not enough.
You are before me, sweet man,
and I am thinking
Aren't I supposed to give up
everything?
Aren't I supposed to be brave
and abandon
each dream and aspiration
and yield utterly to this
elusive beast love,
to your soft belly and companionship?
Aren't we supposed to
have a piece of land-and children!-
that look like you, and cook
soup and bread and sing
each other songs before sleep
and absentmindedly count the stars
from our front porch as we pray
for each other's keep
and pretend
forever is a word known
not only by the heart?
I say to you idols
of carefully studied
disillusionment
And you worshipers
who find beauty
in only fallen things
that the greatest
Grace
we can aspire to
is the strength
to see the wounded
walk with the forgotten
and pull ourselves
from the screaming
blood of our losses
to fight on
undaunted
all the more
Steady yourself, love,
steady yourself
for victory is near
Shut out the world
with its tyranny
of noise
We will not be beaten!
Lose not your faith now
for I need it to strengthen my own
and should your steps
falter, mine would
grow lonely in this
world of coal and roses
We are the living
and the living
must love the world
It is our duty
to fill our hearts
with all the anguish and joy
of our brothers and sisters
Steady yourself, love,
be strong beside me
and know that our
unrelenting gives them
dis-ease, and that
the clearer your mouth
raises itself in
songs of freedom
the more others will come to
warm themselves around
the flag of your faith
For our numbers grow
and soon will outweigh
their tattered armies
and I want your haert
to rejoice in its
inevitable victory
We have been called
And so
it is to
the longing hearts we sing
rise! spread
your wings!
Let no hand
nor ill will
keep you.
All the words I wish your fingers could feel
all the times I've wished
you could know
the silent sorrow
I wish you could hear
the child that cries
in my flesh and makes
my bones ache
I wish you could speak to my fear
I wish you could hold me
in your arms like oceans
and soothe what my muscles remember
The days that I felt
like August, and that I, too
would soon turn
to Fall
you are not
the brave soldier
Neruda's sons
Chaves' brother
you are not
the dark horse
heart filled
with all the weight
and compassion
your hardships
have won you
you are not
driven by the need
to free all the people
from meanness and
loveless abuse
praying for mercy
but unwilling to give it
praying for Love
but too busy
making sure you got your own:
I am not from here,
my hair smells of the wind
and is full of constellations
and I move about this world
with a healthy disbelief
and approach my days and my work
with vaporous consequence
Labor to open
the large wooden door
wrestle the wind
as it sucks past
and rushes through the house
greedily.
Step into the crisp day
blue sky, dry leaves
It had grown so dark in there
Breathe in deeply,
the thin air
flashing lungs that have been
crying
tied in knots talking to you again again again
We try too hard-
Do you see?
Together we have sensed the distance
streth its defeating spine
between our hearts, and felt the
haunted gales of vacancy fill
the hollows of our eyes with wandering.
There is no thief to blame who has
stolen the warmth from
our kisses; departure has been gradual,
by degrees.
Such cold beauty exists here
Do you see it? Like the landscape,
frozen, waiting to be born.
I could stand to be alone
for some time
Lose myself in the white noise
slip into the blur
contemplate the color yellow
I'm writing
this letter to tell you
I don't love you anymore.
I don't miss you.
I never have.
The truth is, I
tried, but never found
your adoration
anything other than arduous,
your niceties clichèd,
your praise thoughtless,
and it has become
unbearably obvious
that you love me with
all the originality
or romance novels;
the manly man weakening
the luscious flower.
But do not be sad,
nothing is lost,
neither of us even loved
the other truly-
you only thought you did
and I only wanted to.
God exists quietly.
When I sit still and contemplate
the breeze that moves upon me
I can hear Him.
For hours I would lay
flat upon the meadows
stare at the
endless field of blue sky
and revel in
the divine placement of all things.
I would walk alone
in the woods and let my mind wander
freely, stumble across theories
on the origins of myself
and all things.
In nature I knew all things had
their place. None supreme,
none insignificant and so
great peace would come to me
as I fit neatly in the folds
between dawn and twilight.
Living in sync with the rhythm
of the earth, eating what
we grew, warming
ourselves by the coal fire,
creating
myself in the vast silence that existed
between the wild mountains of Alaska
and our front porch.
I grew to love the
Nature of god.
I knew Him best not in churches, but
It birthed a space in me
that would continue to
crave the sacred
and demand sanctity
as my life took flight
and lit out to travel
the world.
It has grounded me
and held me steady
in the strong winds
that have carried me
so far from
where I have been.
Prayder is the greatest
swiftest
ship my heart could sail upon.
Listen!
Do you hear it?
I do.
I can feel it.
I expect a miracle is coming.
It has set loose this restlessness
inside of me.
Expect it.
Dream about it.
Give birth to it in your being.
Know! Something good
is coming down the line.
Finding its way to you
like all things find their way
to god's children.
Listen!
I wrote you those nice
poems only because
the honest ones
would frighten you
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