the words rot yet we all still sing making them know something that perhaps
we have lost.
We write because we need to, we write and continue with our prose and poetry, our spirit and our soul
all we know, all of us that no one has even the slightest hint of.
Our own personal tragedy, folded down inside and only the taste for those we think we might love… for a moment.
I dream, I love, I remember everything.
I noticed a woman once.
I fell, and keep falling for all of them.
Until time and time again I see pain and peace seen lives sacrificed and given up
and who am I. Who am I? I tried to give them the knowing but they withered away
and I sometimes feel helpless
and can only offer the wonder inside
It is up to you to see it…
but I slept with a wonderful woman (and really, aren’t they all?)
in a landscape of bodies and sweat and love and then
in a breathless moment and many
I found, she said, that her neighbor was Timothy Leary
and as much as we were just the delicious meeting of flesh,
I never met him, but he was just a wall away
in the Lower East Side, Manhattan
what life offers
and I am helpless, a helpless romantic
carrying this weight through lifetimes
and memories
Hopeless and
only sometimes redeemed
I do my best to give
my all
But sometimes I feel
as if it
is never
enough.
in the meantime it’s been both heaven and hell, though I do my best to always walk through the latter.
The Holiday season brought me to my Mother’s house, a ride in between Christmas and New Years thanks to my NewSister… it is still so difficult to count them as family, but every strange once in a while, it hits – but I have to work for it.
I’m not certain who I am without looking for them – that is all I’ve ever been. Now that they’re found, …
who am I anymore?
I tell myself I could not be happier. I reach inside and shatter. She is perfect, they are. I don’t know what to fight for now. I NEED to find something, because that is all I know.
All I know
Is the fight, the curse, the hidden sorrows that have come to fruition, that have changed themselves into… joy? Happiness? WHAT the fuck do those words mean?
But there is a place inside where I know. Know… something.
I know passion
I know love
I know peace
I know serenity
And somehow in finding all of these things
I have lost them.
I found my family. I found, after 25 years of searching, my blood.
Why can’t I accept it? Be the vein of the river that gathers and becomes the Sea?
I want to live with her, take care of her, find her secrets and tell her mine. I want to uproot her from her tiny town and show my Mother the worlds I see in her.
In the meantime, I want to remember how to open. Remember my vulnerability.
Drop the knives, the bow, the lifetime of hurt and let them clatter to the floor around me.
Give her everything.
Not what I have created, but who I truly am.
I need to scream at her. Hug her so tight that her bones are nearly crushed.
I want us to show each other what we have missed.
I do not want to feel peace
Unless it is found behind the veil.
of Petals & Thorns 