Today I Simply Pray

I never knew how to pray

to surrender to what I cannot explain

I believed that I was the only one

who could dictate the way of my path

I never understood faith

a concept my mind could not bend

I couldn’t make it fit in the boxes

that I compartmentalize in my head

I was always the one to blame

when I wrote the storyline

And in being the villain I glorified

the right to ease my pain

I hid away in the darkened corners

and drowned in a bottle of numb

Slowly dying from this self-imposed exile

yet crying that I was alone

For years, for nearly a lifetime

I was simply waiting to die

But I think the reality was

I couldn’t even commit to that

I’d walk, even run, then trip and fall

but the circle always spun back

To the place where I would stare at myself

and not recognized my own face

The staggering, stumbling, screaming

the nonsense of drunken slurs

And then the inevitable regret and remorse

as the circle spun again

The inexorable end of this fabled tale

illuminated by grace

In the light of mercy and love

I turned to find a blank page

The morning is awake with sounds of hope

as the world around me springs to life

With open eyes I am humbled

I can see the gift of this day

The sun will rise and then set again

regardless of my taking note

For a lifetime I have taken for granted

and wished every minute away

Today I feel awake

today I feel alive

Today I want to feel the sun

warm the surface of my skin

I want to let hope wash over me

and fill me from within

To let light in through the cracks in the surface

where darkness has always been

How?

how does she know the scent of my skin

and feel my thoughts before I speak the words

how does she press her lips to mine

and I feel her nearly half a world away

how does she come into my room

when I lie asleep and let me feel her there

how does she know when I am afraid

and wrap herself around me in the dark

how can she hear the words unspoken

and count the pace of my breath without a sound

how does she understand this need

and fulfill so completely all of this want

how did she find her way so deeply

into the parts of me that I didn’t even know

how did she reconnect the pieces

 scattered without care about this room

how did she show me the meaning of trust

without ever having to  utter the sound of the word

how does she make me feel so strong

when I am openly surrendered to her

how did I find a way to open myself

and invite her into the very center of me

how did empty become so fully filled

sated yet still hungering voraciously

 

there is no how there is no why

she taught me there simply is

how, because we could

because we did

~for my muse~

The Lesson~ letting go

this lesson far from being understood

something unleashed

wildly untamed

a force let loose

a feeling savage

raw, unnamed awake…

 

starting tightly bound

slipping slowly

floating lightly

just above the room

a soft exchange

words spent like time

passing into realms

where actions speak

slowly being taken

stretched and filled deep

pushed until the edges

cease to exist

caught in the wave

of the flowing back and forth

the axis of my balance

starts to spin

suddenly a shift, a switch

changing places

suddenly something

creeping over me

I move upon you

feeling like I own you

this need, desire

driving me beyond control

leading me from a depth

that has never been touched

emotion unleashed

that has always been restrained

letting go and allowing

all thought to leave my mind

opening to the body

feeling the soul

action becomes the measure

the tangible gauge

the visible expression

of what is felt

given name to things

that have never been expressed

the need to be heard

suddenly completely fulfilled

 

 

 

the lesson

there it is

I understand

what is learned

in the act

of letting go

~for my muse~

Deal Me In~

at 3 am, I heard your knock on my door

dazed and blurry eyed I turned the latch

it seems you must have misplaced your key

you know you don’t have to knock here to come in

I saw in your hands a deck of playing cards

nonchalantly hanging at your side

the time of your arrival should have told me

but having just awoken I did not see

you laid the deck of cards down on the table

face down as you read the feel of the room

the dealer’s sleeves and shaded cap covering your eyes

protecting you from making a wrong move

you slowly turned the first card and set it down

face value opening the bets

waiting for the ante where I faltered

too slow before I wagered all I had

sitting across from you I asked for another card

I didn’t have the strength of a full hand

but slowly I watched you fold and collect the cards

placing the stack back on the table face down

you rose and moved through the door without pause

no goodbye, no good night, no adieu

just sleep well and silence

as the door clicked loudly in the latch

I reached for the card on the top of the deck

I held the queen of hearts in my hand

the second card the jester, silly fool

followed by the king

with the stone set jaw

I’m still sitting here with a stack of coins

this time prepared to play another hand

studying the cards to count their value

waiting for you to return to the table and deal


~for my muse~


 

Paper Airplanes of Onionskin

her eyes take in the pages

of the volume in her hand

written in blood on onionskin

life made real on a page

she studies the intricate lines

the ink infused in the thread

then holds it up to the light

to gauge the permanence of the stain

with its cockle finish and texture

the words could be easily erased

but with the volume tight in her grasp

there is no way for this to take place

she crafts these ledgers herself

knife wielded by a deftly skilled hand

peels away the layers

laying out sheets of the cepa skin

she binds them tightly with silken cord

a place for the story to be told

then wraps it in thick strong leather

to protect it from the cold

she keep the pages viable

from becoming cracked and worn

in slightly humid temperature

 always safe and warm

she works diligently at her craft

in the late hours by candlelight

music floating through the room

to keep the distractions at bay

the stories keep her rapt

each page revealing the next

her task to create another page

as each previous one is read

in her workshop with tool lined walls

she takes great pride in her skill

at being the force, the impetus

that demands these pages be filled

at times the reading gets tangled

the words on the page begin to blur

the scrawl becomes a scribble

and the meaning can be quite unclear

this is when she tears the page

from the stricture of the book

and folds it with care and caution

with the same skilled, artisans hand

then she launches it gently

into the air and it sails the room

 she sits back watches with pride

as her paper airplane flies

 

~for my muse~

 

 

https://soundcloud.com/andreathepoet/paper-airplanes-of-onionskin

 

 

 

Education

In three days’ time I will feel you more deeply

a flood in me will violently unleash

Desire unbound will drive me to distraction

I’m not so sure I can take much more than this

Awakened and layers being peeled away

education in the finer arts

I, the student, feeling as if I know nothing

clumsy, unsettled, yet craving ever more

We talked of mirrors and being seen in them

the reflection of oneself in someone’s eye

How that sight can make one suddenly run

the illusion of themselves to clear to see

I feel the depth of that mirror in my soul

that the way I see myself has suddenly changed

That I have been exposed in all my need

and naked I am fighting this desperate need to bolt

Bolt away or bolt the door, no matter

the end result the same, safely away

From the eye with the dead set stare

that looks upon and in to me

Unwavering and level

even as I writhe in pain

I am raw with want for you

I ache for your attentions on me

I cannot cover the desire

in the crafting of words and poetry

You are far to skilled and far too strong

for me to play the role

That I have always played

that I was the one who was strong

To never have been in a place that was safe

to readily let down the guard

To admit to hurt, to wanting

I do not know how to feel

The intensity of these things

and so I’ve cut them out

With sharpened blades on darkened nights

to make them go away

The scars like badges of honor

that I hoped would speak for themselves

But the questions never came

and still the scars remain

You, this stranger, thousands of miles

a million lifetimes away

Saw the scars I’d hidden

and have begun to call them by name.

Leaving hints and clues

opening long closed doors

Now that they have heard their names

they have learned they also have voice

They whispered only briefly

as instantly they were heard

And reassured by a guiding hand

that they need not know the words

To speak slowly yet freely

but now they are starting to scream

You smile at this, I know

but it scares the life out of me

I’m losing control of my control

and you tell me this is alright

So badly torn between the longing to feel

and letting that need expose all of me

 

 

~for my muse~

~with grace~

where do you find the grace

to let words silently slip away.

to take the proverbial high road

and let them go unsaid.

I am a Scorpio and so infused

with a wicked venomous tongue.

poised to strike at the intruder

who has come into my realm.

double edged and sharp as a knife

I wield a steely pen.

I know how to use it for evil

though I try so hard to do good.

I don’t know how not to react

the sting of the piercing of flesh.

not even just when it is mine

I will defend you to the death.

when injured I will tear into you

and slowly wear you down.

piece by piece I will devour

any lingering wounds.

I cut from the inside as I know you

you told me all of your lies.

I listened intently as I always do

I love even stronger than I hate.

it’s not a thing that I am proud of

please don’t get me wrong.

it’s a warning of sorts that my wicked nature

is not always mine to control.

I don’t take pleasure in staring

at this side of me in the glass.

that mocking grin and evil smile

always staring back.

it seems that few else ever see her though

that she makes her attack under veil.

hiding hidden attacks and suicide bombs

in a package of pretty words.

they always come back to haunt me

while I lie awake at night.

and regret and sorrow cover me

like a heavy leaden cloak.

the evil doesn’t live at the heart of me

defining who I am.

that is why I am telling you this

I want to learn to live with grace.