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A
leaf.
spidered
mosaic of gold
shaken off as the last
trapping of summer the
final memory of life. soft
as leather fragrant as
apples fallen to the
cold ground. cold
brittle dry
life
l
e
s
s
[Also on my DA]
Look.
Do you see her?
That girl over there, running alone.
The lone she-wolf, lithe and sleek, with no care in the world. No thought but the steady rhythm of her run. Her motion in time.
Do you know why she runs?
For the steady pulse of the ground beneath her feet.
For the adrenaline rush; the endorphin kick. “Endorphins are hormones secreted by the pituitary gland in response to physical stress. These hormones are known to block pain, decrease appetite, decrease anxiety and induce feelings of euphoria. ” She is high.
For the pain. The physical pain blocks all the emotions she has been holding inside. It reminds her she is alive, she can feel. Others cut. She runs.
Do you know why she runs alone?
She has no pack. On a campus of 1600 and in a city of 9832, she is alone.
Do you see her?
That girl in the mirror.
She looks nothing like me.
Her smile shows no pain.
Her eyes are beautiful and clear. There is no tension.
See how she walks. So confident and sure of herself.
See how she tilts her head. So inviting. Get to know her, she’s like nothing else.
So why does she walk alone in her confidence? Could it be that this is just a mask to hide herself? To blind others to her pain? Could it be that underneath she is just as insecure as you?
Here’s another poem from the pen of moi, tentatively called “Love” :
Time,
the breaker of men.
Fate,
the shackle to the wall.
Death,
the prison of the soul.
Time,
by whose hands we are bound
to Fate,
which pulls us ever deeper
ever closer
to Death,
that flame that would consume
before full birth has taken place.Enter Love.
Love,
the healer of men.
Love,
the breaker of bondage.
Love,
the freedom of the soul.
Love,
by whose hands we are drawn
to Love,
which pulls us ever deeper,
ever closer
to Love,
that flame which would consume and refine
to bring forth fully birthed
that which was created
by Love.
Emergence
Tic, tic, tic, tap.
Tic, tic, tic, tap, crunch.
Blink. Blink.
Hello?
Anybody out there?
Is it safe?
Is it safe to come out,
to quit this place of safety,
of comfort,
to step outside
and into the light?
Is it safe to come out,
to unfurl my wings
and wait a moment
until the sun hardens them?
Is it safe, my brother,
to join you ‘mongst the flowers?
Is it safe, my sister,
to sip this sweet nectar?
Come, come! they call me.
Come?
Yes, yes, come!
Tic, tic, tic, tap.
Tic, tic, tic, tap, crunch.
Blink. Blink.
I come.
Huh. That’s the first bit of poetry I’ve written in a long while. Let me know what you think of it.
“There is nothing in a caterpillar that tells you it’s going to be a butterfly.”
- Richard Buckminster Fuller“I embrace emerging experience.
I participate in discovery.
I am a butterfly.
I am not a butterfly collector.
I want the experience of the butterfly.”
- William Stafford
So what’s up with the butterflies? Love, growth, discovery, joy, emergence. And I have a wonderfully perceptive and encouraging boyfriend. Sometimes (actually, many times) he asks tough soul-searching sorts of questions in an effort to get to know me better. The real me, not the me I hide behind. His latest was actually the easiest to answer: What makes you feel loved? Basically, what is it in others’ words and actions that makes me feel like they love me? And here was my answer: It’s being accepted for who I am. It’s knowing that I can say what’s on my mind without being judged or laughed at. It’s being able to laugh with someone. It’s messing up and still they accept me. It’s having someone care how I feel and not laughing at my fears. Well, my response opened, not a door, but a huge gateway (think Black Gate sized). We’ve been discussing it via e-mail, and one of the things he said really struck me : If I may make an analogy: the butterfly doesn’t want to come out of its cocoon. You’ve been in the world as a caterpillar, and you felt somewhat at peace with that. But you’re destined for bigger things, and you’re more beautiful and complex than anyone would judge by looking at you. The vibrant color would dazzle the eyes of many, and you’re terrified of showing it, because its different, and you want to be accepted, regardless of your feelings towards popularity on the whole. I admit, that made me cry. I struggle with who I am. I struggle with what God’s doing in my life, because I can’t see what’s going on. I’m self-depreciating. So to see me described through those terms was a revelation in and of itself. It was like catching the briefest glimpse of myself through his eyes, and it blew me away. That someone, outside of God and my family, loves me that much to be able to see me that way…. amazing. What’s more, I know it is only a tiny reflection, a tiny glimpse, of God’s love for me. I know truly that God is able to “do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine” (Eph. 3:20). Like get this butterfly out of her cocoon.
I wrote this poem a while ago at a much less happy time of my life, and I feel like sharing it. Let me know what you think.
Please don’t look at me like that.
It’s not so bad as you think.
I’ve grown used to this cold within
that the fire from without cannot penetrate.Plese don’t look at me like that.
I can’t stand the pity.
It never saved me.
Show it to someone who cares that you care.Please don’t look at me like that
with your love
Give it to someone who is alive inside
who can feel and love in return.Please don’t look at me like that
with your sorrow
to die is to live again
without this pain.Please don’t look at me like that.
