White snow progressively tinting blue
Ice resembling Bricks to built an Igloo
Nippy and harsh and yet a holding glue
Tinting and chilling to its distinct hue
Eternal chill forming deep packed Ice
Resembling the Blue Tinted Alps
Blinding with ceaseless fervor
Leaving the excursionist in a quake
Unclenching its Adamant Terror
Eagle with its forceful glare
Stiff,snowy stubborn meringue
I bade thee time and time again,
For unclenching of the soul.
A journey long to calm my mind-
And make me rest assured.
Sing to me a wistful tale born from a city far,
Take me on the coursing rivers briskly winding down,
With hidden temples, fountains, and a past not yet discovered,
I yearn to know what secrets grow in places left forgotten.
Chains
Forged by you
Designed to hold me down
Loosening
Weakening
Your iron grip
That forced me to lye
To sit by your side
Unclenching
Relaxing
The web
You cast around me
To make me stay
Untwining
Unwinding
Everything you've done
Broken, erased, destroyed
You have no more control
I run away to my first
Taste of freedom
it was not until barren plains
made a home in me,
lips were chewed
from the search for something
I didn’t and could never possess
(I thought)
endlessly, I felt awash,
chiseling new geography
my dusty visage changed posture,
carving numbers into my spine
I found an answer
(but was it too little too late?
pink lines marked a path
but still, I hadn’t wanted to see,
I clenched my hands
and strange visions of whiteness
lined every road I traveled …
I never looked,
choosing instead
with a single embrace
to seduce the dark,
always thinking,
I could have whatever
end of beginning I sought)
all it would have taken
was one step into light,
and my agony
would have eased
my truth was finding
that nothing is ever over,
in the living of a life
is the morning of death
perpetually
I now see threads of ourselves
wind around the hand of mother-time,
remembrance being her art
but now, I forgive without thought
sliding between her fingers,
unclenching mine
I marched, they marched, we marched
For nothing now it seemed
And I the ego pulpiteer, left parched
Refusing to go underground with the stream
That carried me before to a sheer
Desolate drop, I can struggle unless I fear.
So here in the monastry of altar and pew
I come again O God to you. Next
Time when the fire starts, remember few
Were called to drink gall and text
And I among them have lived pure to truth
Provide a ram for the obedience of youth.
We shall unclenching fist feed in fecund feast
Unwithering love to every poor
Spirited, staggering from kingdom to beast
Blind to thy Jerusalem's door.
I came because I believe, and tremble still
Slobbering at the invisible shadow of your will.
What else, each time timbre of trumpet tells here
And after wars dead flowers are left
What else could counter the clamour of despair
And bring me gloried on knees bereft
Brailing the gored gospel of its giddy solace
Pinnacled on the faith fluttering face to face.
who
she has become
runs parallel
to whom
she would have been
if not for me.
I take the blows and accolades as one
knowing neither has the acid strength to etch the metal
of my skin.
I am her friend.
She knows me more than that
but titles don't exist for whatwho I am to her.
She dares at times to look me in my writhing eyes,
snakes recoil at her intense regard.
A closer dream
will sequence her in,
when she was ten
she held my hands ,
unclenching fists
of fettish and denial
a clever child,
she made a game of guessing
in which palm
the past was more insane
and which more calm,
she knows not who she really is today
the muses come and go and some do stay
but she excretes a fiery self regret
of what she did or didn't do and yet........
the tiny sapphires sifting from her soul
are worth as much as others who are whole.