oceans

Her Summer

Not a murmured breeze rustled leaves on the great palm above her lasciviousness.
Air dank in tequila and orange on her breath, exhaled from the long deep glow on the end of her fag.

She motioned small circles above herself toward the sun scorching her not so baby soft skin; years of sun-beds and liposuction fold in small ringlets over the top of her stretched pink side tied, bikini bottom.

‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ her lips mouth to the clear skies of siesta, and
glistening forms on sandy patches who won’t notice waves that don’t crash.

Her eyes glaze, and quiver, half shut in anticipation of what the heated hours ahead may deliver her alcohol soured blood.
She closes her mind to the images, in a shake of her head, and grips the side of the fluffy ‘Minnie Mouse’ towel with a significant sigh.

She sits, applies sunscreen (you know the fancy one that comes out in a fine misty spray?) too near her face, behind larger-than-average-sunglasses.
They, languid on white towels, crane
in her direction,
and resume satiated dormancy under colourful hats –
there is nothing much of interest to see.

She blinks the mirage from her eyes as the sting deepens,
burns through her flesh, her mind, into her heart.
And she closes them.
‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ she gestures at the setting sun wrestling a sexy floral beach-cover-up over her hot body;
Tonight, as all nights, she will sleep in a fever.

IW

Hesitation

I walked alone
Minding my stay
He passed by the way
Looking for life
To be frivolous play.
Stared in my soul
Saw through my face
Laughed at all
My silly mistakes.
He didn’t quite know
The heart on my sleeve
Hesitation my strength
My weakness to grieve.
So held out his hand
Like a lumberjack sword
Cut to my core, stood by
Through the fall.
He knelt down above me
Lifted me up
My legs melted softly
Behind his broad back
My hair on his shoulder
His beard on my cheek
Placed me upon him
Laid me beneath
A Centuries memory
Of war and of peace
I breathed in the moment
Held in that breath
Would not breathe out till I knew
I’de scorned death.
Hesitation my weakness
My curse and my strength
My safety in oceans
Parting our flesh
Take me, and drown
In waters vast breadth.        ~ IW~

The Nothing, My Everything

I was not strong enough. I could not be what you called me to be.
I am sorry, but also not.
When there is nothing I am happy in a kind of way that does not tear apart my soul and mind.
When there is nothing I can do all the world demands of me to meet the needs of those given to me to care for, as is expected in the way dictated.
When there is nothing I can hide away from the screaming in my head telling me the world is sick to the core and I MUST do my part in healing it. Healing me, them, us.
When there is nothing, I can be nothing, and in that nothing I am exactly that – a being.
Nothing.
Being everything I have to be and nothing of what I cried out for to be for me, for them, for you.
My voice falls silent and I leave the speaking to those who have life left in their bones to grasp hold of truth and live it, curse it, throw it into the abyss of writhing bodies falling over each other in search of gratification and satisfaction within themselves – searching nowhere in nothing for the answer of who they are. They are nothing, like me, numb to the call of the mountain and spring. Waiting for thunder. Waiting for the heavens to open and swallow them into their imagined places. But they sit idly busy not seeking, hearing, nor seeing themselves in the nothing.

Nothing

The nothing is safe – easy.
No fires scorch, no oceans to drown in. No up nor down, no happy or sad.
Nothing exists in solitude. Nothing exists in isolation from itself.
Nothing is the space that joins the universe to itself.
Nothing was there, before there was everything. Yet you call to me and make of me nothing
all this while as I try to be everything for you, just like you.
You are the everything and I the nothing and so it is true that I am and so are you,
nothing and everything as time moves forwards and backwards.

I am there. Turned out. Turned inside to the places before I was.
Now nothing under you in your everything,
I bow in weakness to be strong  in these spaces between gravity,
my ears not waiting for the thunder, my eyes not grasping for the sky to suck me up.
No fire, no ocean, just you – as nothing was before everything came to be.
You are nothing, to me.

IW –

J.S ~ D.O. 11:11,

 

12/05/2017