for the man i haven't met

I forget what I looked like before you.
I’m pretty sure its nothing like now, because how could my face have held this much joy? How could my chest have carried this much love? My eyes would have been dim, my body thick with lethargy. I could have drowned in this love if it weren’t for the wings you made for me.

When I see you, I recognize your face as my own. Its when I look in the mirror that I get confused Your skin is my skin and my heart beats in your chest and all the loneliness you‘ve ever felt is within me, hidden in my blood and under my tongue.

You are the one person unafraid of my love. You rally under my love like banners of war, you taste the sweat of my love when you drink from the earth, you devour my love like the eagle and Prometheus and I have never felt so whole.

The flesh of your back was under my fingernails long before I ever knew you. You came walking out of the shadows of destiny and ordered a coffee, black, while your calloused hands reached for God in the back of a newspaper and found his personal ad seeking you, and when you dialed the number you dialed mine by mistake. In your voice was a six string guitar and something like rainstorms and now I lay open to you like your favorite blank pages. Your tongue strips ribbons of flesh from my thighs and our hearts pump each others blood in time with the tides and the stars fall into your hair like snowflakes from heaven when we visit my family for Christmas.

And for my part… It’s like finding the lost part of myself, and falling in love with it. I forget that I never knew you. I forget that thieves of my love swept away the dust of my heart into hallways and under rugs. I forget that it once took me fifty years to summon the courage to breathe again, to wake up again, to stand on my own to feet and sing halleluiah. Before I knew you, I must have been sick with this overflowing love, too full to hold it back in tears and sweat and vomit. I must have dulled the edges of my pain with anything I could find: a stray cat, alcohol, a toxic relationship. I must have failed in my faith in order to preserve my moment. I must have lost hope in finding you.

But your love is what created me. You reached into my dark pool of unrequited love and lifted out my pure and golden heart into the light. You made me wings so I could fly and survive the flood of love pouring over me. You saw the eternity my love was going to take from you, and embraced me.

If I have ever felt this way before, it was when I was in heaven. I swam in a river under majestic mountains and a cloudless red sky, and I knew love was only second to god. In those long moments my heart was as full as it was empty, was beating as fast as it was still. Forever felt like it had happened yesterday. And now, in reality, in the human flesh of experience, I look into your eyes and see rivers of forever, mountains and skies of love. My heart is as full as it is empty, an endless giving and taking between us. My heart beats as fast as it is still, finding infinity in measured time. You are mine.

just realized

The post about the words running circles in my head... those lyrics chosen tell a very unique story of what i was feeling. How interesting that they fit together like words of a single poem, not sections of several songs.

Let's see if it works again:

"The devil is not the nature that is around us, but the nature that is within us..."
"How did they find me, how did they know, this misconception of faith I'm about to let go?"
"Now that she's back in the atmosphere, with drops of Jupiter in her hair, she acts like Summer and walks like rain, reminds me that there's a time to change..."
"Til my sleeves have turned red, from all the truth that I've shed..."
"She may be young but she only likes old things...she sees mirages of mountain ranges, but in the blink of an eye it changes back to the open plain. Oh no she can't explain..."
"I say I'll care forever, and I mean forever, if I have to hold up the sky..."
"God and the devil alone could not have made you up, the two must have worked as one together..."
"Funny the way it is, when you think about it, somebody's broken heart becomes your favorite song..."
"Be my friend. Hold me. Wrap me up. Unfold me. I am small. I'm needy. Warm me up, and breathe me..."

...nature helps too

I don't know if it's beacause I'm doing massage again, or if it's got to do with the fact that I'm not chasing some useless boy around... hell, it could just be the ocean air or the view from the top of the hill.
I'm beginning to grow up.
I can feel it. I'm learning things about myself, and then changing or keeping them. I'm taking small moments for myself, and really using them for a purpose. I'm, learning what I need to be happy, like potted plants in my doorway, and a good solid view of nature. And somehow it includes handling my responsibilities.

I think I hold myself to a higher truth, and it's making me think my dad was at least partially right. I have high expectations for myself. I think he instilled them in me, but I also think that even if it weren't for him and his parental misjudgements, I would have a fear of failure.
But no. I take that back. If it weren't for him, I would feel much more powerful. I wouldn't fear never being good enough.
It doesn't matter. What I'm trying to convey, is that I know now that I am important to myself, if no one else. I am beautiful, and passionate, and even... gasp... smart. I can handle whatever blessings or curses come my way in life. That's not to say I welcome a curse... please, Universe, do not test me. But I am strong.
I am ready to LIVE this life. I didn't know I hadn't been.

an itch i can't scratch

I think I am a freedom junkie. I like the idea of droping everything and grabbing a suitcase or two, and peacing out of normal existnace for the open road. If I had any savings of my own whatsoever, it would have happened a long time ago. Fortunately (and unfortunately) I am not self-sufficient enough to drop it all. So I guess I don't get to.
What I might get to do is move every few months, like I have been. Once I'm done looking out the same windows every morning, or if my room is too messy, or if there's a for rent sign somewhere else... that's when I get this itchy feeling under my feet and I pack. Or redecorate. Whatever it takes to subdue the itch.
Someday I am going to take a huge road trip though. It will take a few months, but I will cross America and hit 49 states... I will have to save up a few thousand dollars, but I can do that. It will give me a good idea of where I might want to settle and make my massage/doula practice a reality.
I can't wait.

red and white, dark and light

A pale blossom blooms
Under a pink moon
Full and bright, baby-faced.

The scent lingers
Drifts on a slender wind
Made of petals and stars.

I chew the burning points of light.

The shadow of a rose
Somber and solemn and red like blood.
Hot like embers dying.

It pools and pours
Drowning the sheets
A honey thick and sweet.

I embrace the silky shades of night.

Here I rest
As a bridge, a ladder
The balanced difference between thin-veiled sides.
I buoy and sink
Swim blissfully among salt and stars
As dawn and dusk surrender to themselves.

the words chasing trenches around in my heart

"It's like forgetting the words to your favorite song. You can't believe it; You were always singing along..."

"...I know our filthy hands can wash one another's and not one speck will remain..."

"Spikes keep on falling from the heavens to the floor. The future was our skin and now we don't dream anymore..."

"This war-ship is sinking and I still believe in anchors. Pulling fistfulls of rotten wood from my heart, I still believe in saviors..."

"Oh all that I know, there's nothing here to run from. Yeah, 'cause everybody here's got somebody to lean on..."

"...Are we waiting for a saving? I'm so sick of waiting! I've been waiting my whole life. This is a new day..."

"...And don't you bury me six feet under ground. Just burn my body in a box, and let my ashes blow with the wind out into the night sky..."

"When I grow up I want to be a forrester, run through the moss on high heels. That's what I'll do. Throwing out a boomerange, waiting for it to come back to you... "

"This my excavation and today is Kumran. And everything that happens is from now on. This is pouring rain. This is paralyzed..."



around and around and around and around and around and around and around etc

always tired

I am finding that I am exhausted. I am tired, like really tired, a good 60 percent of the time. The only 40 percent landing somewhere among total joy, peaceful contentment, or dreary ennui.

I need a place of my own, to purify and protect and fill with light. I need somewhere I don't have to worry about who is doing what or if my hair looks wrong or why my heart is breaking for no reason at all. I need somewhere that is not going to be infiltrated by other energies.

On a happier note... I don't actually know.