Rising
"Rising"
In my blood, the words swim.
Like heart beats, they speak
through walls of water —
life and tears.
I’m drowning in poetry.
It boils like waves, pounding
into the crux of me.
There, in the meeting
of simple minds,
the body overtakes
too much,
that is forgotten,
like a speeding blue memory —
such a beautiful, naked thing
bound in ink bleeds,
two souls in one another
could somehow be free
in that far removed place,
singular, unforgotten, met,
in the distance
of the beige In-Between,
where the bleeding poets
inside us rise, removed
from disgrace like Gods -
to call Life in,
for the romance
it truly means.
Our words race
like water bleeds.
Candide Diderot. ‘26
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