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parchment paper birch
standing bravely white on white,
deep in snow… on snow.
its textured history bared
like ours… in subtle details.
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slow nuanced layers,
peeled away in time… with trust…
from pretense and fear.
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patiently waiting…alone,
hoping our Truth will be found.
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pencil, watercolor pencil, acrylic paint,
paint markers, approx. 8″x8″ on vellum paper
sourced from various Google pics and my imagination.
click image to enlarge
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refuge
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on days like this
like so many days
and for no reason
and for all my reasons
this fragile heart can’t
face this relentless world
when all i hear is abundant cruelty
when all i know are slights and daggers
when all i feel is every desperate heart
when all i see is every place i don’t belong
remember… our first momentous night together
pine scented candles and your second hand flowered couch
when so tenderly stroking your forehead hushed you to sleep?
and content just to watch you breath your tranquil dreams
you knew then i could always do that for you and
i knew then i would finally share my every weakness
because there is no refuge in this world for me but you
dear friends,
this is a co write between teardrops of ink and myself. we began this poem over a month ago, born from tentative blog converstaions of two internet strangers. we hope you enjoy it, as much as we did writing it.
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dear readers and writers
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,
(The Writer)
Frail lives
penned into strong, black lines
on display, hidden
in plain sight for all to see
The moment of truth
Afraid to try, afraid to reach out:
yet more afraid not to.
(a reader)
and it’s these moments…
in reading the poetry of real people,
of eyes that we will never speak to, the miles
we will never bridge, the shoulder,
our reassuring hand will never reach…
it’s these moments when pain,
her vulnerability so courageously
etched across the screen, a pain that
resonates so deep into my own heart, that
i wonder… what…if….should, i risk
saying what i really want to say…
(The Writer)
Some days, I don’t feel real.
Nothing does.
Except for these thin webs
connecting space, this
frail air full
of unspoken words
and spoken ones.
I am burdened to give,
to share
everything,
to hold nothing back
All of my heart, bleeding out for you
All of you. Those who I will never know
or see or touch.
Yet you know more of me than
those who can see and touch
me.
(a reader)
she has revealed
so much of herself in such
naked honesty stripped of metaphors
could it…is it enough that
i suffer for us in
my silent solidarity,
click ‘like’ and move on?
i ache for us… both
that her words would ever need to be written
that my wound could still bleed as fresh
but..
we’ve talked before…
in that day’s long conversation…
in her beautiful poem To Taste the Autumn
at least a tenuous connection
exists between us now…
will she recall it
fondly as i do?
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or is it just
what i need
to feel?…
(The Writer)
Interpretation
can work both ways. He
could say one thing and I
read another, same words, different
thoughts born from them. Gently phrasing,
almost afraid to tread
too heavy inside
the dark recesses of others minds
lest I leave too much of a footprint.
Yet how will we know if we
are the same inside unless we break
open the shell a little
and look?
Absent touch
Handshakes reaching
through binary code
And the silence stops pressing in
quite so much.
(a reader)
the pain in her poetry
has scratched and scrawled into my heart,
taken root in decomposed memories
it resides there, in
wounds buried decades deep
below this sudden resurrection
but tears as wet
if there is more to grieve
then who better to empathize?
i’ll bare this truth
as she has,
expose my softest underbelly
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empathy shouldn’t
feel like such a risk,
but there is
no turning away now
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,
(the friend)
i am so profoundly happy for you!
ty so much for sharing that wonderful news!
i remember when Scout and i first realized we were in love…
nothing else existed….enjoy your time together.
and they say fairy tales
don’t come true….
hugs to you
my dear friend
(The Writer)
Pale and
warm
ethereal tendrils
snaking through the dark overheads
Soft as newborn stars
More tender than petals
The reassurance of a stranger’s words
reaching through the universe
to embrace a lonely soul
Enticing touch of a tentative friendship
born through blood
and fire
and words
pressed into my heart and
soothing
Shedding sweet tears
til no bitter remains..
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what
benefit
has your love
so quiet and fearful,
dormant in its shrouded heart?
please
don’t believe
the pale vocabulary
of this ambivalant world,
silence, its own sharp betrayal.
and what
benefit has my
abundant heart if
not sharing our pain?
i am
not afraid
of your fear.
reach then,
reach for my hand
the true sky is waiting.
couple these hearts together
and we can glide above this fray.
Written April 2013
submitted to 20 Lines A Day
prose an poetry challehnge for April
who could know then 