Uncharted Territories
My hands are explorers,
my fingers chart sea routes along your wrists.
Before, I stood at a distance,
dipping my toes,
but now I adventure into
new uncharted territories.
My eyes, telescopes.
My lips caressing of your shoreline.
I want to travel into international waters.
Where there are no laws.
Where the waves peak.
Where I can taste your salt,
and the roughage of your break.
Desiring to be supported by your body
of water,
Cool my warm, basically naked, skin.
Tag: Poetry
The Original Song
Inspired by Robert Frost’s poem yesterday, I wrote the following poem. But before we get into that, I want to share a little bit about silence. I spoke with my cousin last night who was distraught upon finding out her best friend had been hit by a car. He was seriously injured, but alive. She told me about how when she found out, she called multiple friends but no one answered. She felt “alone in the universe, I just felt like I was left floating there.”
I remember this feeling back in my depression, I felt so alone and unheard, unwanted and living in fear. Just as she was. I explained to her that the unhealthy side of our brains, the parts of us unhealed, hurting, the addictions, the self-indulgences, the justifications, the instant gratifications, etc. That side always tells us bad things. Our brains are hardwired to make us feel better – at whatever the cost. When we were hungry as primal creatures, our brains would solve problems to get us nourishment. When we needed shelter, we would creatively find a solution. That has not changed, only our problems have.
We now need to be “perfect;” warm, comfortable at all times, loved by everyone, successful, eat the most balanced diet, post only the most beautiful pictures on Instagram, and have the most loving and adoring relationship. This list goes on and on. Our brain is constantly trying to give us the best solutions to all of our problems. For those of us who have unhealthy tendencies; eating to cope with stress, suicidal thoughts, using sex, drugs, alcohol, etc. It’s very easy to let that side have the loudspeaker. But there is another side.
The healthy side, in that moment for my cousin, was telling her to take some silence. No one answered the phone calls, but the universe answered the real call. Be quiet in your grief, in your fear, in your hurt. She wasn’t alone in the universe, because she was WITH the universe. And this beautiful world wanted her to make a healing wish for her friend and for herself. Sometimes, silence is the answer. That is where we grow, evolve, learn and understand ourselves more fully.
Our greatest strength, our greatest wisdom and our greatest kindness is silence. That is our original song. Silence and love.
The Original Song
Never have I met someone like you
Apologetically heroic while healing hearts.
Kind severity that stares straight through
Unabashed, unadulterated, a destiny long overdue,
Spoken softly, a secret of honey burns at our hearths.
Love letters left on pillowcases,
Sunsets seeping from the text;
A humanity overwhelmed with familiar faces,
Flowers filling up the blank spaces –
In between the places like lovers might suggest.
Words falling short and gracelessly falling out,
Inexplicable in nature, what a marvel you are
Like God himself is even devout.
The land lacking light, without and in drought
And then you, like Renoir, painted the sky with heaven’s first star.
“The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost (1874-1963)
Today, for no particular reason, I find this poem to be quite significant. Beyond the beauty, imagery and profound verse of this poem – I am left questioning many things. At first read, this poem delivers the messaging of “Did I make a difference?” With the final sentiments of “I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.” But upon further reading, and interpreting, I’m left with realizing that either way he chose to walk, the destination would have been the same. (“Had worn them really about the same.”)
This poem, every time I read it, makes me feel very human. Because whether we choose to be musicians, or poets, or a construction worker – in the end, we are all on the same path, with the same wear, heading in the same direction. Universally human. I have read before (in various opinions of this poem online) that “The Road Not Taken” tears apart the traditional view of individualism. Some might find this thought frustrating, defeating, inaccurate; saying that our choices do have impacts and make large differences in our paths. I find this thought relieving, comforting and true in my world – regardless of the path and the small choices I make, I am among the collective human race.
This poem is not really about “Did I make a difference?” It’s about the strive to make a difference.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Too-Personal Plane Poetry
I am currently writing a response to the brave woman who responded to Ask Me Your Questions, Tell Me No Lies. In the meantime, I’ve got some new poetry to share. I’ve been on a recent business trip so I’ve been spending the last two days on planes to and from the west to east coast and back again. Along these travels, I’ve been inspired to write a few new poems. Surprisingly, for whatever reason the poems arising are a bit salacious in nature and likely too-personal to be writing on a plane (next to strangers).
Alas, when the mood strikes… I hope you all enjoy my first edition of “Too-Personal Plane Poetry.” (Hopefully, while also sitting next to strangers.)
The smell of you…
heavies my hurried heartbeat
and tickles down my spine.
Fingers spellbound to pull you into me,
an invitation I’ve yet to decline.
Dazed by the heat of your breath,
grazing of my lips on your ear.
Change my chemistry,
Raise my frequency,
Oh please, just keep me near.
Breathing is a rhythm now,
suddenly aware of the fullness of my breasts.
Your fingertips ice skate on my skin,
I daydream one will slip under my shirt,
just accidentally, momentarily, but I will let you in.
Can I breath a little deeper?
My lungs overflowing with you.
Melting of my muscles,
while others worship the fevered seduction of you.
Anchor in Time
Anchor in Time
We have our own universe;
the space between the lines,
in the breath before the words.
The ethos that connect reality and dreams,
the dusk and dawn
the attraction of night to day.
A magnetic haul that lingers in our ocean.
We hear your heartbeat in my hand.
We are lovers, artists, romantics,
Our intimacy is cinematic.
You are my home in the heavens
and I am grounding to your spaceship.
Sometimes I think you’re too good for me.
Other times I hear, “Well, aren’t you two just the same type.”
Our meditation is an anchor in time.
And my grateful heart now lives in a world previously unseen.
You are so beautiful.
I am only here to have met you.
Be here now.
It could be from my husband’s absence (he’s a touring musician and has been gone for the past 6 months), it could be from my father’s passing, it could be from our recent move, our recent wedding, or any other living, breathing thing – but right now I’m floating.
Before therapy, a time like this would have me spinning. I feel the impulse to have a head full of questions. I used to beg the universe for answers. I wanted so badly to understand why I was hurting, why I was shown so many paths in life if I was “stuck” on only one. I used to bury myself so deep in fantasy versions of my life, the visions of timelines not yet lived, and other worlds I created that I would be so far removed from the present. But not now. And I gotta say, it’s refreshing as hell.
Yeah, I’m confused. I’m taken aback by my circumstances. I wonder why my husband has lost his faith, I worry on how to talk to him about my heart aches with loving kindness, over the years I’ve felt tired and alone in my pursuit to feel joy, and I am uncertain about the future and what it holds – but isn’t all of this the best part? Isn’t the unpredictability, the riskiness, the absurd and spirit of inquiry just so human?
Last night, the first primitive nuclei divided and created a new and separate nucleus. No one knows how the first nuclei was formed, there have been many theories, but to my knowledge, there hasn’t been a definitive answer and last night, I witnessed the creation of the secondary universal nuclei. The world split right in front of me – and in its beauty, and in its rapture, I was present. My eyes were swollen with tears, my lungs overwhelmed with mist and my hands were sparking with magic.
We all have the answers, every answer, to every question ever asked. I am floating in the translation of the word simplicity. I feel it in my fingertips, it sends shivers down my spine and causes goosebumps on my flesh. I am human, I am here.
Titleless
She was the only witness.
Only she heard my hunger.
And if it was that easy, she answered,
“Just you wait.”
Without hope, without need,
She drenched me in wonder.
Still frames projected behind my eyelids,
waves, the harmonic motion, stirring my source.
A lifetime with your touch, a life without your touch,
We danced with the line of collapsing time.
I Know You
I Know You
I pulse with you under my skin.
Delicate hair stands up as I quiver when you think of me.
In secret, I have felt your wanting.
Left momentarily mad with desire,
my body engulfed in wildfire.
My fingertips write love letters on your neck,
my lips leave rose petals on your eyelids.
I am forgetful of everything but the tilt of your smile.
Will you hold me for two more minutes?
A Color Darker Than Black
These last 14 days without my father have been the hardest days I’ve experienced in a long time. I’ve been a witness to death before, but this one is a new breed of aching. It’s a depression that strikes at any moment. It takes my breath away and then fills my burning eyes with salty tears that I thought were dried up. My thoughts are consistently scattered and I am leaping from one feeling to the next, like bullfrogs on lily pads, careful not to fall into the water.
There is so much comfort in my world that there have been moments where I feel like I could become a lighthouse directing all around me to the beacon of love itself. And then almost instantly, my heart collapses and I feel cold metal sludging through my veins, fearful I will be numb forever.
My faith is unwavering though and I know that I have seen darker hours. And even if I hadn’t, I realize my purpose is to be a vessel for the universe to use as she wishes. I am a constant student, unlearning everything all day long so that I can become empty for her to fill me up again and again. Bring me pain, bring me beauty, lead me where you need me.
My dad is a cloud and he turned into snow – he continued on to his next and newest form. A form that is unbeknownst to me. But in my reflections of him, I feel his peace, his lightness of heart, his youth and above all – his love. As a friend recently said to me, “…there would be no day at all without love. There’d certainly be no night. Or any other infinite thing.”
My human mind can’t comprehend why pain is necessary, why “bad things happen to good people” or why there can be so much savagery in the world – but I do understand balance. I see the pendulum. I’ve swung from one extreme into love and light. Everything is temporary, and so is this hurt. I have a choice to live well and love through the ache and I will always side with love and allow the brilliant universe to continue to show me the way.
A Color Darker Than Black
I dreamed of driving alone in the desert
taking pictures of shadows.
I never expected to know people.
Loneliness felt like enough until it wasn’t.
I was enough until I wasn’t.
I am not weak in my worship, oh world.
My eyes are simply weighted and my body does not feel of my own.
Lead me, use me and I will grow vibrantly like a wild tiger lily.
No explanations required.
Venus has had fewer men than I.
Speaking their words, fueling their desire with my primal fire.
Still, the empty hollow in my chest begs
Whimpering and broken I plead for peace
Not yet ready, there is a color darker than black.
Clawing and grasping for breath this darling girl has resilience.
You see, I am a time traveler.
I can see all of the parallel universes, the past expressions,
the future is not unknown – it is written.
This blackness does not hurt me
it wets my appetite and forgetfully reveals the opposite side of the spectrum –
the blinding, effervescent light.
A kaleidoscope of color – timeless, limitless.
Will you feel it all with me?
Sit by my fireside,
and read the most elegant love letter ever written.
Primordial Artist
Primordial Artist
The Macrocosm, my Mother.
She bore us and sang to us as children.
Her reminiscent and nostalgic wind still guides me home.
She is a true creature of creation.
The primordial artist.
Her imagination, the DNA,
Within every consciousness.
I want to love in a way that makes my Mother proud.
My muse, my maker,
I see your untranslatable scribes etched into my walls.
I hear your bird’s song.
Voiceless and wordless I impatiently await your lectures.
Show me your allegiance to life.
The best non-date
The Best Non-Date
Silver strings pull at the heart while the waves search for our toes.
The cool kiss of wind on the nape of my neck intoxicates me,
with trembling knees,
the draw of you collides into mind.