Friday, 24 February 2012

to silent voices singing from an older time we dance

I.
i wonder who, through it's cage of ribs
and self made walls, sees your heart
completely naked? and not just the muscle
they preserve to display in glass jars,
but the heart that's bigger than it's edges
and is filled with light and dark and life.
life which is the evolution
of slowly giving birth to ourselves.

II.
balanced in my dissymmetry i savour
the soft kiss of skin grazing skin.
the holiness of particular moments.

in the museum we manoeuvre
around their bones forcing timelines to merge,
forcing everything to connect
...even though it always did. more
than simply spectres in peripheral vision.

III.
shoots break through paper thin skin
in what i hope is a kind of eternal spring.
a tangle of flowering branches
from which little deities hang; those things
with which we furnish our days and lives,
that facilitate flight, that i pray to
and am thankful for; that prevent the shadows
from being big enough to block my sun,
that keep me breathing and breathing
through bergamot filled lungs.

4 comments:

Ke said...

Are particular moments like this so deeply ingrained in the inner beauty of life that they become one in the same, or so unrealistic that they exist in only dreams and moments of terrifyingly short duration? Keep dancing, don't forget to remind us of the hauntingly beautiful footsteps that ebb and flow throughout the night.

Anonymous said...

you make my bone shake

demie said...

"i wonder who, through it's cage of ribs
and self made walls, sees your heart
completely naked?"

always the one we let, or maybe the one we never expected to, and mperhaps that1s the one bringing enternal spring, taking the shadows away from our sun and again, once again your poetry fills my little head with thoughts...

Anonymous said...

holy worDs for sAcred HeartS...

beautiful
beautiful
beautiful