down

I’ve let myself come down again

it’s not really quiet down here
whales
the earth shuddering
new mountains being born
the ebb and flow
as the earth makes love to the moon
and small bubbles

I am quiet
when I let myself
go all the way down

the ocean is not quiet, but it is dark
dark as a dungeon
damper than dew
I keep sinking

and my eyes slowly adjust
my lungs adjust too
it hurts like knives at first
but I adjust faster than i used to
like the sea lions
I can go down and get back up
no bends
I have learned from them
I hold the oxygen
and let the nitrogen out slowly
through my gut

my eyes adjust
and then they come
the glowing ones, slow and fast
like ghosts swimming towards me
maybe they are my dead
someday I will join them

I expect to return this time
maybe
or not
I don’t know if I will find pearls
or a leviathan
who will swallow me whole
and barely notice

this time I walked in
myself
I don’t blame you
or family or past or circumstances
it is time for me to go down
I go
down and down and down
deep

___________

if I could bottle this

if I could bottle this beauty
if I could bottle this joy
if I could capture the heart
the stone shaped heart of a boy

if I could bottle this sunshine
miraculous stars in the dark
open the sun in the winter
train to capture a heart

I can’t bottle this moment
sorrow rolls in sure as joy
tears run dry in the future
my heart not always a toy

______________

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: bottle.

(You always know) post trauma

You always know

You always know
when I am afraid
when I am running
when I am hiding
how afraid I am

when I keep secrets

You always know
so far
when I am triggered and terrified
and hiding and broken
and pretending to be ok

so far
you respond
and are gentle
draw me out
offer food
and company

You always know
so far
and I am still afraid
and I am still planning
and this is what I am hiding
the plan for what I will do

What I will do
when you know
you always know
when you know
but you don’t
respond

when you don’t respond
and aren’t gentle
don’t draw me out
don’t offer food
or company

You always know
so far

But I feel safer
if I don’t
trust

11/28/21

A lovely irony

it’s a lovely irony
in losing you I’m finding me
in grief I am at last set free

you may call or not any day
ask me to the beach to play
it doesn’t matter anyway

you’ve lost me, you know it must be good
things happen as we know they should
lost the beaches lost the woods

I’ve found the lover I’ve sought so long
you don’t believe me and you are wrong
the Beloved’s love is deep and strong

I say a loving goodbye my friend
I am sad to lose you, sad hearts mend
but you have chosen to make an end

it’s a lovely irony
in losing you I’m finding me
in grief I am at last set free

Agatize

A long time ago, at least by a child’s time, he starts turning. He blocks things out. He locks his heart. He decides to be happy and do what he wants. His heart slowly turns to stone.

The blood roars through, pushed by each beat, how can a stone heart beat? Not normally, that is for sure. His brain controls it, cold, logical, no emotion, except happiness, that is what he says. He says it over and over, I am happy all the time, until he thinks he believes it. And then he believes it and his heart is stone.

But the blood flows and the body feels and emotions come anyhow. He refuse them, all but happiness, and blood lays down a wall of emotion inside his heart. Chalcedony, lining the chambers, coating the valves, coating the arteries that feed the heart. The heart doesn’t need the arteries open because it is not beating. It is stone. His brain is beating. Beating the emotions away, away, away, refusing the body and the heart.

The heart is hollow. Slowly it is lined with clear agate. At last his heart is full: no more chamber. Agatized, all the way through. When he is cracked open, far in the future, a chalcedony nodule will show the perfect interior of a stone heart.

And where does the blood go now? we wonder. Laying down the lining of agate, clear, colored lines of emotions rejected, all the colors of the rainbow, what he thinks of as impurities. That is how he thinks of his emotions: impurities, to be rejected.

What will be agatized next? His liver? His lungs? He says strokes are the end for his family. He calls it then, his brain is agatized. The part that controls the pumping, overriding his heart over and over, when that part turns to agate, he will be correct. A stroke. How long will it take, we wonder? One year, five years, ten? He says he won’t go past 80. That will be 13 years. How apropos.

Can nothing stop this? Chalcedony is hard, not hard as diamonds, but very very hard. Agates are common and we search for the clear ones, the lit ones on the beach. Almost nothing can wear them down: high pressure would kill him, high heat would kill him, what is left? Water. Water wears down rock.

Enter the sea. The sea of love, the sea of dreams, the sea of the unconscious. Seek help, before you turn yourself to full stone. Agatized and dead.

Maybe there are other treatments, I don’t know.

A stone shaped heart is rare, I hope. See how it catches the light. Beautiful and sad.

August 30, 2022

welcome home

home home welcome home
home is where you are, Beloved
and you are everywhere

not in churches, not for me
I run outdoors, long to be free
you are everywhere I see

the beauty in the world
love and grief and pearls
small child dance and twirl

I have crossed the boundary
over and over again
Beloved, let me stay, friend

I’ve searched for you so long
Beloved, you make us so strong
look everywhere that’s wrong

home home welcome home
home is where you are, Beloved
and you are everywhere

________________________________

August 31, 2022

shut

I was keeping the door cracked, hoping a friend would come back
but it’s too painful to hope all the time, a constant heart attack
I slammed doors and windows this morning, took my heart out of hock
If you want to see me again, you can damn well knock!

_______________________

Four flocks of geese flew over on the beach a couple days ago, heading south. It always makes me want to travel too! And one of my trees is shedding leaves already, yellow and all over. Fall is on its way.

flight

Cormorant, I think.

About to take flight.

A good take off point.

It takes five years for bald eagles to fully mature. This one is close.

And a great blue heron in flight in the fog.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: flight.