respective.
2006-06-01 8:31 p.m.
what you made your name forhaunts you, carries you in from the long night
dew-skinned and soaked
with the sweat of remembrance.
moonlight makes a poor mother, her invitation
cold and unbidden, shares
embraces with the emptiness, and you
of all people
think you can relate.
does it mean distance? does it mean
dark and afraid
you have slunk you legs
into trembling, into going up to break back
and so, you are like an ocean, filling these expanses, hungry for the land.
you have taken your permission, have learned
firsthand
that hell is not the suffering
it is the total absence.
let loose, you follow seasons, you follow lights
in the hope that they will lead you
straight and narrow
close and tied up in creation.
the sanctuary kept means set times for meeting, means
structure
means
no more pretending that you have kept yourself safely.
some of us, we cannot bend
without the promise of a break, without the hope of absolutes
reclaiming
our transgressions
and washing us back clean.
some of us, we put our ears to the walls
and listen hard, can hear
the shifting of the universe, the empty space colliding with its children, and we speak
our newfound language
in breathing out
in whispers.
the majesty that passed
passed through us, each unacknowledged,
passed through us unaware of the connection
that we would one day share, little children
little children
our minds unprepared for what would happen.
i set these limits so that i could carry
a full and productive life
but they wear me thin, and i am addicted
to seeing my suffering
manifested in others
so i come and linger, the couch to my shoulder
make comfort! make comfort!
we'll kiss one another goodbye
before the life that we're leading
overtakes us, oversteps
the strength that we've managed in
bearing this quietly
in being good people
in keeping our silence,
in forgetting the horror we've seen.