21
Feb

Matutine

bird 2

{adj. just before dawn}

 

There is a point where feeling too sore to stay still

and yet standing in concrete boots

tired and weighed down

I will travel beyond the measure of what I thought was possible

into an ocean of wilderness

 

Beyond all that my life envisioned for itself

to this place suspended

The marsh of no {womb} -mans land

Grounds of slow sand underfoot

where I neither belong or are belonged too

 

With its eerie echo of voices behind

Calling from a life meant for comfort

that would have a fly feel caged in a matchbox

there is only one way to tread

 

And yet moored in a holding pattern

I am so far from home

Where I stay with no front light on

No set shore with familiar ports

till dawn light when the sun will show the way

 

Or may I wade by starlight through undergrowth

Legs scratched on sticks and stones of cruel tongues

No room to lay my things

Hypnotized by a soulscape of nurturing

Surrendering to deeper things

where peace is no longer a five letter word

That a place like this exists is the only reason I long to be here.

 

Shedding skins from lives no longer mine

Corners turned with no way back

and no desire to return

It is a feeling; an intangible truth

A bygone time of constructions

peeled away until loosened from its un-elegant life

 

The time is nearly here when

the morning rise will come as sure as it has always done

Trusting in the undeniable guarantee

to bring me to the fold

in every way

and bringing me to the fold, unfold

again in styles never unveiled before

 

Strewn naked in the abyss

New thoughts with no foot hold yet

Fresh idea buds swirling in my in-wards

the only place to fall

Like towns and cities unknown to exist

except in hidden passage ways behind the book shelf

 

Not here: Not quiet there

A soundscape of salt air

The smell of incense from the bazaar

My dark heart the only compass

by this new moon at the end of a long night


Comments are closed.