achesleep

Someone said,

“You can’t miss anyone while you’re sleeping.”

I closed my eyes. That isn’t true.

I’ve spent hundreds of years searching for you.

Missing you in valleys, in dungeons, in endless time

Every single night in the dark mazes of my mind.

I can lay me down to sleep, aye, and even dream

But missing you is a longing that pervades even sleep.

there is now a song

it sings in tones of spider-thread

it wanders up and down the Pain…

The song is caught in a timeless place,

where the hurting worsened ’til it grew a face;

and the face is blank and its eyes are dead;

& wilted blossoms frame the head;

beautiful, but also gone.

just like us.

i wrote us a song.

Nostalgic Prayer

Someday I’ll look back and be astounded
Someday I’ll reminisce and be amazed
at all the ways my life has changed;
tears shed for deaths we all regret —
friendships, friends, desires… dead.

Someday I’ll wonder just what happened
Where all the sunlit years have gone
My heartbeat then will go to sleep
my words will breathe no more.

I long for absolution from the starrer of the skies
the one who galaxied creation
and all the colors in your eyes.

Let my skin cease to glow
the day my colors fade.
and otherwise my spirit grow
in love and mercy night and day.

pottery

faulted
fractured
broken bits; human beings wonder if
we’ll ever be fixed enough to seem
like heartache is not unraveling
the seams we stitch to break our bonds
funny how we tie those knots
specifically to free ourselves;
and yet the prison remains.

we are cracked and chipped like pottery
the lumpy turtle kilned in third grade;
Pork Chop the pig named by pigtails
and all the in between.
And yet more perfect still are we
than over-fired pottery;
humans were made by divine hands
so no matter how we crush ourselves
we can always be repaired.