breathe
in and out
don't think just
survive this
day this moment this
night behind
me and you i can't
live without and can't
hold in my hands and gone
now it rends
my soul like wet
paper killing
me as it falls
apart it's what i knew
it would be but i
believed
anyway and it's
this that will suffocate
me as i bend to
breathe in
and out
will it ever be
okay
i can't
breathe
For the first time I want strong arms tonight just because I would do anything to keep this darkness from closing me in -- for the first time I would beg without shame for safety and offer nothing in return. Just be there -- someone be there -- anyone be there
to wrap me up in real, in the middle of this vast -- I won't say you're beautiful or make you feel -- I'll claw your arms around me and shake like a child -- let you think as you will,
and when morning comes I'll rise trembling with relief and leave you there because life doesn't leave me time to store up arms for the night that's always coming, even when morning has begun and I should sleep the day when fear is at rest and you --
I would pay. I would do anything, I would say anything you want to hear, not because I would take from you but because I need you. I need you, I need you, and I don't think I can do one more night
with this fear, this alone, with this sleep that takes me in and leaves me wide awake with the terror, praying for rescue, praying that I have not been abandoned, wanting to not be alone
with this.
to wrap me up in real, in the middle of this vast -- I won't say you're beautiful or make you feel -- I'll claw your arms around me and shake like a child -- let you think as you will,
and when morning comes I'll rise trembling with relief and leave you there because life doesn't leave me time to store up arms for the night that's always coming, even when morning has begun and I should sleep the day when fear is at rest and you --
I would pay. I would do anything, I would say anything you want to hear, not because I would take from you but because I need you. I need you, I need you, and I don't think I can do one more night
with this fear, this alone, with this sleep that takes me in and leaves me wide awake with the terror, praying for rescue, praying that I have not been abandoned, wanting to not be alone
with this.
The perfect soul to
catch eternity as she passed,
to lose everything I need and hold everything
I ever wanted --
I take it apart, piece by piece by piece,
childhood hatred my lot in the end, trying to learn
each touch, each turn of the head, each step
to greatness, to wonder, to
worship.
Stare. Life takes this.
The raven carries it in her wings,
the sunset throws it lavishly away,
even worms feed on it like bread.
Here am I, with my books and my pen and
my self-made teachers, following,
yet all I ever learn is that what I see isn't
what I get.
catch eternity as she passed,
to lose everything I need and hold everything
I ever wanted --
I take it apart, piece by piece by piece,
childhood hatred my lot in the end, trying to learn
each touch, each turn of the head, each step
to greatness, to wonder, to
worship.
Stare. Life takes this.
The raven carries it in her wings,
the sunset throws it lavishly away,
even worms feed on it like bread.
Here am I, with my books and my pen and
my self-made teachers, following,
yet all I ever learn is that what I see isn't
what I get.
So,
if there is something to believe in,
then my picture of it couldn't have been all bad.
In fact, I believe it was the perfect snapshot
of what I believe something to believe in
should be.
So,
if life wasn't designed to teach us all
that we're just puppets on a stage, and bought to boot,
and if you really wanted us to love
holding life in our hands and smiling
in the evening,
then
why did the pearl I sold everything for
turn out to be a fake? I thought it was supposed
to work like that. If you want me to believe,
why evaporate what I believe in? It's no case
for faith.
Don't
think I blame you. I don't.
I just don't take chances. I won't be duped again.
I wish I could be. I wish life was out to trump
my hand, to be everything I cannot dare
to dream.
But
if there really is something to believe in,
don't let me go on not believing. I'd give my life,
and gladly -- in fact, I want to give my life --
consider it given. Forgive me if my faith remains
as hope.
if there is something to believe in,
then my picture of it couldn't have been all bad.
In fact, I believe it was the perfect snapshot
of what I believe something to believe in
should be.
So,
if life wasn't designed to teach us all
that we're just puppets on a stage, and bought to boot,
and if you really wanted us to love
holding life in our hands and smiling
in the evening,
then
why did the pearl I sold everything for
turn out to be a fake? I thought it was supposed
to work like that. If you want me to believe,
why evaporate what I believe in? It's no case
for faith.
Don't
think I blame you. I don't.
I just don't take chances. I won't be duped again.
I wish I could be. I wish life was out to trump
my hand, to be everything I cannot dare
to dream.
But
if there really is something to believe in,
don't let me go on not believing. I'd give my life,
and gladly -- in fact, I want to give my life --
consider it given. Forgive me if my faith remains
as hope.
The universe is circling Orion.
I try to force it back, reset the stars;
my fingers fade like sunsets,
and everything I touch slips right through.
I go east, away from you,
then west, to get to you,
but if I walk away, I find you,
and if I walk toward you, I end up far away.
East and west trade places and I am caught
off guard every time.
So here I live, splitting moons,
separating hemispheres and sidestepping tides,
dreaming of an empty sky,
hoping someday to escape this gravity and
find a world with a road --
any road --
that doesn't start or end with you;
any road
that I don't have to walk alone.
I try to force it back, reset the stars;
my fingers fade like sunsets,
and everything I touch slips right through.
I go east, away from you,
then west, to get to you,
but if I walk away, I find you,
and if I walk toward you, I end up far away.
East and west trade places and I am caught
off guard every time.
So here I live, splitting moons,
separating hemispheres and sidestepping tides,
dreaming of an empty sky,
hoping someday to escape this gravity and
find a world with a road --
any road --
that doesn't start or end with you;
any road
that I don't have to walk alone.
"Let's both quit our jobs," he said, "right now,
and go to the Islands.
We'll work on my friend's boat and have nothing
but good times."
"What about After?" I said.
"What if there is no After?" he said.
"Maybe we'll never come back.
I could get a job."
"There's always After," I said.
And later I wondered if he disliked my practicality,
and if I did,
and I wished I could want it bad enough to go.
But the problem is, I really believe
in After.
I wonder.
Is life what you return to after the side roads
that take you away from it,
or is life the side roads themselves,
the things that catch your heart enough
to pull it away from the duty that doesn't,
that holds you back,
in one place?
and go to the Islands.
We'll work on my friend's boat and have nothing
but good times."
"What about After?" I said.
"What if there is no After?" he said.
"Maybe we'll never come back.
I could get a job."
"There's always After," I said.
And later I wondered if he disliked my practicality,
and if I did,
and I wished I could want it bad enough to go.
But the problem is, I really believe
in After.
I wonder.
Is life what you return to after the side roads
that take you away from it,
or is life the side roads themselves,
the things that catch your heart enough
to pull it away from the duty that doesn't,
that holds you back,
in one place?
I ache today, because of yesterday--
yesterday when I held my nine-month-old nephew,
sick, crying, tired, wanting his mother.
He was so tired his cries were like a child talking in his sleep.
"He's half asleep and doesn't know it," I said.
It took him awhile.
I didn't feel like home to him.
My arms weren't right, my chest wasn't right,
my voice wasn't right.
His head would sink down against me
but he'd jerk it up again,
determined not to let himself go.
His eyes would close,
but not for long.
But then his weariness got the best of him.
He relaxed in my arms and let his head rest,
till a few minutes later he woke himself up
crying for his mother.
I wasn't what he wanted.
Then he slept.
He slept so deeply that his pacifier fell out of his mouth,
and still he slept.
Resting on a stranger's chest,
cradled in a foreign love.
My arms ached.
I wouldn't have traded it for the world.
And now here am I, stumbling on,
sick at heart, weary, crying,
determined to stay awake and get through this.
It strikes me that God would love to have sore arms
from putting me to sleep.
yesterday when I held my nine-month-old nephew,
sick, crying, tired, wanting his mother.
He was so tired his cries were like a child talking in his sleep.
"He's half asleep and doesn't know it," I said.
It took him awhile.
I didn't feel like home to him.
My arms weren't right, my chest wasn't right,
my voice wasn't right.
His head would sink down against me
but he'd jerk it up again,
determined not to let himself go.
His eyes would close,
but not for long.
But then his weariness got the best of him.
He relaxed in my arms and let his head rest,
till a few minutes later he woke himself up
crying for his mother.
I wasn't what he wanted.
Then he slept.
He slept so deeply that his pacifier fell out of his mouth,
and still he slept.
Resting on a stranger's chest,
cradled in a foreign love.
My arms ached.
I wouldn't have traded it for the world.
And now here am I, stumbling on,
sick at heart, weary, crying,
determined to stay awake and get through this.
It strikes me that God would love to have sore arms
from putting me to sleep.
It's one of those sentences thrown into the middle of a page, the kind no one remembers reading when they've finished the book. I feel a little sorry for it (and perhaps for myself, too), wrapping itself up in a strange mixture of muffled steps, a roomful of dancing kids, beignets heaped with sugar, and trees falling in a forest, debating whether or not their fall made a sound.
Tonight Joshua is singing about holes in his pockets just her size ("But I think everything is gonna be all right--yes, I hope everything is gonna be all right...."), and I lay out my mind an empty sheet of paper but all I can think is
if perfect love casts out fear,
then why
am I
so scared?
Tonight Joshua is singing about holes in his pockets just her size ("But I think everything is gonna be all right--yes, I hope everything is gonna be all right...."), and I lay out my mind an empty sheet of paper but all I can think is
if perfect love casts out fear,
then why
am I
so scared?
Remember us?
We are you
then,
and you are us
now.
I'm safe here.
They're all gone.
In this frame, the history behind me
disappears.
Your shadow isn't big enough anymore.
You keep putting more of us
behind you.
When there's nothing left of you,
where will we go?
I like it here.
I feel free again.
Everything of me I want to keep
is here.
Take us with you.
We answer the questions.
We fit the holes in your skin
that life falls through.
I thought I could be whole
by taking me apart.
Are you ashamed of us?
Well then, come.
All of us?
Even the child in the corner, awake from a nightmare,
afraid to open her eyes?
Yes.
The woman behind the door, hoping no one sees?
The girl singing in silence, praying no one hears?
The one in the middle alone, with nothing to hold on to?
Yes.
And the daughter bleeding rage,
the murderess rampant with revenge,
the thief with empty hands.
The liar too, with the price she's paid, and the love she's won.
The lover forgotten,
the child with the story unbelieved,
the girl holding all her gifts untaken?
Yes, and even the harlot who's played her part
and gotten what she never wanted.
Come. Let's go together.
Welcome home.
We are you
then,
and you are us
now.
I'm safe here.
They're all gone.
In this frame, the history behind me
disappears.
Your shadow isn't big enough anymore.
You keep putting more of us
behind you.
When there's nothing left of you,
where will we go?
I like it here.
I feel free again.
Everything of me I want to keep
is here.
Take us with you.
We answer the questions.
We fit the holes in your skin
that life falls through.
I thought I could be whole
by taking me apart.
Are you ashamed of us?
Well then, come.
All of us?
Even the child in the corner, awake from a nightmare,
afraid to open her eyes?
Yes.
The woman behind the door, hoping no one sees?
The girl singing in silence, praying no one hears?
The one in the middle alone, with nothing to hold on to?
Yes.
And the daughter bleeding rage,
the murderess rampant with revenge,
the thief with empty hands.
The liar too, with the price she's paid, and the love she's won.
The lover forgotten,
the child with the story unbelieved,
the girl holding all her gifts untaken?
Yes, and even the harlot who's played her part
and gotten what she never wanted.
Come. Let's go together.
Welcome home.
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