One Of The Falling Ones

The cottage is full of soft warmth.
Summertime is seeping in.
You step out and turn to me,
Standing expectant in the hot sunshine,
Surrounded by bright dust motes and chickens,
Tulips by the gate.

My hands linger on the door frame
The grain familiar and worn under my fingertips.
I smile and push off and out
Towards you and the sun.

But my feet meet no ground.
The chickens and their yard dissolve.
You are frozen in the memory of the previous instant
And I fall.

***

A dream.  Last night.
One of the falling ones
When your body believes in the shock.

Love Is The Pits*

I have no better words to say than
I Am Confused.
I always thought Love grew
Whole from the ground.
All you had to do was
Find it,
Pick it,
Brush off the dirt,
And take a bite.
Now they say that if you find Love like that,
You will soon be left with a pit again anyway.

It turns out that I have a Pit in hand.
I ate the fruit too fast it seems.
I'm a nervous eater.

And suddenly I see a lifetime of pits (piles and piles)
If I don't plant this One and grow a Tree.

The Fruits of the Earth by Edward Detmold

*apologies for the terrible pun

Firefly

Blink

roses and happiness and children and morning smiles

Blink

dark feeling of absence

Blink 

connection and belief and learning and progression

Blink

heart-pounding emptiness

Blink

blessings and eternity and work and reward

Blink

hollow, empty lies

Sometimes I Am Running

Sometimes I am running,
running towards you with eyes and laughter bright,
pressing you close to me
(you are never close enough),
filling all of space and time.

Sometimes I am skipping,
daydreaming of your handsome face
and crowns of flowers
and names of babies
and secret gardens.

Sometimes I am spinning,
half the time facing the way I came,
getting dizzy
and starting to stumble,
hoping that reality will grip me soon
and hold me fast.

Sometimes I tiptoe,
eyes wide like a doe,
waiting for the sudden danger
that will send me fleeing,
tail up,
to the comfort of the familiar
single solitary world
you are slowly luring me out of.

Sometimes I cannot even open my eyes,
and I am standing still
waiting for the hand
to wind the key
to turn the gears
to break off the rust
around my heart.



But sometimes I am running.

Destinations (Imagined) by Brooke Shaden

Upside Down

I was born in the air and I've been reaching for the ground, never knowing that I was facing upside down.

The pocket in my heart is full of demons just for me. If I never let them out then I will never be free.

You are good and you are beautiful. You are happy and you're true. How could I ever think that there is better than you.

I've been looking up and down and out, I've been holding all the hands. Now I want to shed my skin and start again.

I was born in the air and I've been reaching for the ground, never knowing that I was facing upside down.

(I want music for this)

If This Is Not The Ocean

If this is not the ocean,

The waves will soon stop pounding

My heart against these rocks.

The undertow will soon stop pulling

My heart out to sea.

The salt will soon stop wetting my cheeks,

If this is not the ocean.

Then I'll crawl out

And dry off

And gaze out,

Blank-eyed, 

Over the puddle

That I so narrowly escaped.

Rosary Of Reasons

A litany,
A mantra,
A rosary
Of reasons.
Security,
Remember?
Identity
and depth.
Don't forget
the things
he lacked,
the things
he didn't see
in you.
Close your eyes to his eyes and his arms and his silence and his self and
Remember.
Repeat.
A litany,
A mantra,
A rosary
of reasons.
Each bead
another breath,
another minute,
another step
not in his
direction.