Oh restless soul
I shall forgive
Alas, you swell so
What a ravenous sea creature
a bellied beast,
Oh sweet thing,
Tame, tame.
Your beauty irrevocably ornate,
Your brow a scaled black beauty,
A winged beast I can ride on
Between worlds anew
and seas beneath.
How I love you so...
How I can never go back
For in this world, I can not live without us.
Your are my Beast.
Holder of my heart and fire, my flame of Pele,
My cosmic breath.
When you die, I shall have to die with you,
Keeper of my soul.
Tempest. Thou wilt abide me!
How I cower in no land and shall not I then,
Cower for you!
Defy me! You might try,
But you will abide me,
Your turning eye.
Wrath has no cover here,
your winds may blow...
But you will bow to me,
Insights, O' the many,
You shall bow!
Heave and throw as you may,
I stand this mighty ground,
Anointed!
O' bout of faith, how you test me so.
Brave and brazen with play.
I loved our thrashing and tumultuous days
O' the many,
But your time has come here, Storm!
I have to put you away.
Love nest
Sweetest,
Beguiling space in your soul,
Lay here tenderly,
Retracted and refrained from the world
Put it down
Upon my chest
Take Shelter;
Love nest,
a woman's Whole.
Tending, tending
an encased retreat
a safe haven,
Made of love and wool.
Draped over me.
Saturated.
No sound at all but violins
and compounding heartbeats,
Distant and thrashing.
Closer and nearer.
Ripened vile upon my chest
The night and elixir grow colder
Sipping my sweet to meet you
In death as we'd always foretold.
I put this vile upon my lips, no saviors in life's thresh
But for in death, I might see you again,
Rather than dying here
and growing of old.
Wasn't it spellbound?
Our voices first,
then the souls, our eyes;
Stirring two fluttering notions
Breath stopped
For just a gesture
holding....
holding...
Uncannily aware
gazing through
Like assessing a stranger
As non-threatening or a foe.
In you,
I swam though,
like falling in the womb of God's River,
An Ocean,
His Body, in dwelling
weightless,
There was no difference then,
Between you and I.
Instantly,
we would become One,
as if I had never not known you.
We would be bound.
And we would always know it...
I carried you for four years.
...and you, carried me.
I took your face, your heart
In my hands
As we exchanged willingly.
You would take my bags,
And heave them on your back,
A life's burden you always
Would bare
And I took your heart into mine,
A contract of shelter & care.
Something befell me, a trance and a trace
When I saw the pain I could cause
I promised then, with Angelic grace
I would protect you regardless of flaws.
And we danced and we danced
All night through, falling in your arms,
As Sinatra strew and through me across
You and I pittering our feet to his charms.
We were always unbroken,
stricken between two,
no matter the run or escape
Tied between, by an invisible might,
A flame of Two adorned by One made.
We change...
don't we!?
An era sometimes being
Only a decade
Of our youth.
And how sometimes we don't?!
It is a quandary.
Do you take your coffee with honey?
Me and daddy did.
Now only a tragic memory of another life.
Isn't life so unfair, dear sweet?
Isn't it after all...
And all that it is,
is what we choose to make of it?
What a tragic miscarry of justice,
That I had to be the nemesis in that family...
When those girls grew up
With my father...
A father who never bothered to raise me,
Or show up,
Or give to me in centimeters
What they received from him in miles and years?
They painted me black and plastered that scarlet letter on my name...
Never giving any semblance of true love...
Not for me.
After all, I was not theirs,
But rather his;
A bastard child.
A dirty thing.
I'm not sure one heals from something like that,
Rather it becomes a dim stain of a tragic story told of your real life.
One that surfaces in holidays, and answering questions about family by new acquaintances meaning well.
By deeper friends still...
And I have to brush off the harsh tale and condense it to a single word.
"Estranged".
But that doesn't sum it up does it?
That doesn't sum up the let down,
The abandonment,
The worth of being somebody abandonable.
He not one moment lent himself to this daughter.
He poured his entire vat into his three beautiful girls,
And left his first one to rot and figure out her damaging crisis of life
like a fucking street rat.
And that's how I grew up. Just that.
A fucking gutter rat,
With an illuminecent soul,
Bound to keel under the burgeoning Flemish
Of depression and depravity,
Suicidal thoughts and body ravaging fibromyalgia from over a decade of childhood trauma and abuse
Stacked up
And eating away at me.
By the time they met me...
His return was just a little too late.
By then I had been molested by two men, under my mother's care. No more than six years old.
By then, the restraining order on my cousin would be a distant memory,
And the police report on him would be found decades later;
An early memory of him giving me a black eye while babysitting me, and who knows what else he did? I was only Three.
I remember vividly his brother being shot in the foot in the back yard, as Tobin defended my mother and I,
Against Andy and his gun.
I remember the panic and fear, cowering where my mom placed me by the refrigerator beside the pantry.
I knew he had a gun and what it was, and that he was trying to come for us,...
But Tobin took the bullet instead.
If there was one thing I could undo...
Maybe I would go back and never meet him...
This man, who claims he's "Dad".
I think by then my heart was simply too broken
To be able to handle what followed with his return.
That family's judgement and callous regard, broke me more than any love in my life ever had;
Years of stacked abusive relationships
Still wouldn't compare
To what they took from me
When They shattered what was barely left.
It is a tragedy I barely have the words or strength to reconsider. I rebroke then again unfathomably, falling into a new despair,
A breakdown,
And I did it all alone, once again.
I had no family to trust, to be heard by, to even care.
It is far too tragic, mucking up feelings I've long tried to bury, still hurting as deep as subconscious and abandonment.
I was always left by them that way-
Worthless and chucked out, like a filthy animal, discarded with all their conditions and false perfections that suited their callous actions,
And apathetic empathy.
To them I was no daughter, no girl needing guidance, solace, love, safety...
To them I was an outsider and a threat.
And they reminded me everytime I came around in judgemental passive aggressions and passing placations
Of no substantive glue to hold us together,
Compassion and love...
Not meant for me was the constant message I was receiving by them.
Everyone tied up in their own life,
And he simply arrived in mine,
Too late.
But if I could put my pain inside them-
They grew up with My Father...
While I grew up with none;
Then they might have changed long ago...
And hugged me
And accepted me as I am,
And taken time to guide me,
Or go on the family trips-
To make me one with them,
To embrace me into their home, family, life, and heart
Instead of judging me into such an arm's distance
I really had no choice by then,
But to run back away.
He was perhaps a good father to you...
But he left me without him. My home was absent that. It was chaos, and poverty. It was grimy and disgusting, with years of neglect
Under the cerebral palsy and narcissism of the only parent I was left to.
And I floundered for a VERY long time,
A flopping fish merely in my mother's puddle.
There was no room for thriving, growing, learning, evolving under her.
Instead I grew up too fast, undisciplined.
Instead I ran away too soon to numb the tragedies that had stacked up.
Instead I was on anti-depressants by 16, after calling social services on her for what I now understand was
"Narcissistic Abuse"...
though I didn't have those words then.
No....
He will never know.
They will never know,
How deeply they rebroke an already shattered heart.
And what a shame it is
That I might have been better off never meeting them, or him...
For those tragedies can not be undone by the soul...
Though I shall, now,
Continue to keep them there,
With God as my grace.
But for tragedy's we cry....
And they have never sought to
And they will
Never know mine,
And by their hand.
I have worn a crucifixion they worship...
But will never understand.
