“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label wound. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wound. Show all posts
Sunday, May 10, 2020
Scab(bard)
What must be done,
the human dilemma,
in life, in love,
two hands
for beginners
two eyes
for choices...
And yet,
the serrated edge
makes its intentional cuts,
back and forth, metronomic
and chronically
applying increasing pressure
while deepening-
Well,
we all know about old wounds
and the salt cure,
yet often preferred,
the tourniquet
methodically
seems to slow things down
when placed snuggly
over our mouths.
Photo credited by: Poliphilo / CC0, 'The Knife Grinder' taken 2015 in Public Domain.
Saturday, June 8, 2019
Infectious
The overwhelming experience of taking it ALL in
Now, is an overstimulation of the senses as in the expectation
to make it so as we hold it in to the very top of this slippery
second the moment we notice it gone
and are left with what we do with and to this
experience
or sense of should-be-doing-
exhausting ourselves of our possibilities and
ultimate potential
contentment-
of being O.K.
or not okay
but still-
moving-thinking-feeling-not-
thinking-re-aligning
ourselves with being
ok with who
We Are
Trusting
ourselves
to heal
while we are busy
choking ourselves in the experience of
our environment
while the soul
caresses the wounds and whispers ways
to keep clean
while exposed.
Artwork/memento by Frederic Edwin Church, inscription reads "Remeber the ashy light, the black rocks and brown grass" Ecuador, Andean mountain peak [Public domain].
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