Lotus Contemplation
Lotus lingering, languid in modern fashion.
Dried nectar, denied connection, desolate isolation.
Depression, dire and terminal contemplation,
Petals pulled, separating stem from salvation.
What have we become?
To love is to linger in hurt,
limb torn from lover’s limb.
To love is to blaze, body burned,
skin stripped from bed’s breath.
Perpetual blame, perpetual shame —
is this the same sad game we all play?
I refuse to stagnate, standing strong, aflame at the stake.
Heart on a harsh pike, a spike of sorrow’s code.
I will not remain in the mental mud.
I have dirt on my face, but my soul stays clean.
Repent my sins to a father,
the fissure-maker in my heart?
Broken, battered at the birth-start.
Ancestral ashes, inherited grief, generational ghosts.
Do I succumb to the story of my birth?
Do you follow the footsteps of your maker?
Do you fashion pain in your wake?
Petals fall, frozen to permafrost ground, round and round.
Do you sleep instead of dream?
I need you near.
This you know by name.
Longing, the waiting, the wanting — the same.
No fences to fasten me in,
No refrain, no false substitute for truth.
No sugar-free fake, just sweetened nectar.
I cried at cold lakes, rivers of ruin carrying me out to sea.
Take all the time.
I can sit and battle rhyme.
Myself, my shadow,
my tail chasing joy.
Wandering down winding back alleys of waning attention span.
Earbuds echo, reverberating the sounds
of our love,
in our skulls,
noise nullifying everyone else.
I know this by name.
The obliteration of the self,
the swelling of sorrow, the massing of worry.
The growth of love
in the stomach of the earth.
See me now.
My comrade, the unknown soldier,
battling demons, warring at wit’s end.
Come to me and bend.
I lend my window.
Cast your eyes across the view.
Halcyon days drifting on and on.
All apologies?
What remains to correct?
How can we fix what never exists?
I only want symbiosis,
apoptosis,
surging libido to awaken,
and discover you,
as you sense,
by touch, by taste.
I wrap my legs,
my petals around your stem.
I want to be whole again.
Nectar nourishing, pouring pure from our mouths,
feeding each other the food of gods,
once intrigued by our folly —
that ever-human need to fall.
Heart heaving, pulling apart the hollow head.
The bitter bite, the brittle breath of winter’s end.
Kicking, screaming, spiraling into love.
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