April 18: Weather

Descent; Hot air; Unfinished eclipse; Harbinger

 

Descent

I was born into consciousness
that was fluttering gray, comfort of home
and cold that let fluidity take a hold of me…
a runnel across my mother’s mist
to go plunging—
I see breath for the first time, air tempestuous
catching me and twisting my descent—
it’s growing hot now, I am truly
a capsule of liquid held together by a slight
awareness of infinity now – this is as close
as I ever come to becoming solid, transcendent
of the ether and the unyielding; I come from
an unstructured matrix, where we understand
that geometry gives birth to our chaos, and
I absorb the colors blossoming below me without
hesitation – I am a reflection and yet, transparent:
I fathom the strange light whiteness and am
one with the impossibly deep green; that
is my destination, my fall is effortless and the path is
quite clear – and I know by instinct that it is
a succulent metamorphosis that awaits me, once
I land, a joining of essence – I bring a vibration
from the skies that the earthbound watch in awe,
and my scent is a sheen of dawn splashed
across a morning sky unseen above my mother:
I am a vivid and condensed parcel of
the gift of life: a drop
of water from the sky.

 

April 18, 2014

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Hot air

Curled up on my bed at a wayside inn,
I still felt under the weather – but that
was not going to stop me from celebration I
told myself, so I bolted from my confinement;
my head was still in the clouds, basking
in rays of euphoria, because I won the duel
between me and that blustering fool who thought
that he was all but invincible—
however good he was, I stood before his sword,
the draw was lightning quick, and I was struck
by the shock of being hit—
but his dexterity was a storm in a teacup,
worth no more than a quick kill – perhaps
he did indeed have skill, but I
was blizzard of cold destruction quick as thought;
the humidity of the day had my hair
slick on my face, heart still jittery from the dancing
at the festival of the equinox—
and that cursed drizzle that put me abed, wounds
still half healed from a cyclone of salves
beating down infection—
and as my heavy footsteps took me
down to the common room where a pitcher of ale or
two awaited me, what I found instead was a calm
like the eye of the storm: a bard’s voice
filling the place like startling thunder, his words
a swelling tide that overwhelmed me;
his face was magnetic to my eyes, and
wherever he looked, eddies of people swirled aside,
his tales conjuring mirages that had the folk
gaping from its sublime visions, the air was crackling
and deafening in the silence of his pauses—
I had to meet this man, I knew, to thaw
that thunderous expression, even as his sweet words
fogged my mind beyond comprehension—
so I stepped up to him as he bowed and fell silent,
audience hailing him with applause, yet pleasure
never even cracked his cool demeanor; and I
broke the ice of our awkward pause…
by talking about the weather.

 

April 18, 2014

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Unfinished eclipse

I was pondering sacrifice over a cup of tea,
a storm breaking outside, filling the air with electric
compulsion ready to strike – yet, holding back
just at the last instant, as I, leaving darkness
to consume the pattering night void of speech,
strangely peaceful amidst all that violence…

…but the thunder—
the thunder rolled over me, lodging itself
in my marrow; teeth chattering, I said what must
be said, and the heavens themselves punctuated
my words – though my heart clenched with misery.

A cloud passed across your face as I spoke,
but you held in the rain as you listened: the path
might lead to a hesitant sun drenched in the blood of
daylight fading, spilling the secrets of the clouds,
and we might meet again, though we knew
what the end of this particular storm meant…

…but the quiet, the quiet of the air the next day
as you passed through the atmosphere—
sound tuned out and you… were simply gone, and like
at an eclipse: I kept waiting for you to show your
face to me once again, come to me in my garden.

I was ever rooted in the biosphere of our connection,
teaming with minnows of nostalgic regret
spreading vines of memories, lush and misted
with the dew of the tears we’ve shared – but you
are the sojourner of the skies, drawn
to touch the cosmos and be bathed in fresh light…

…that sunrise above the roiling clouds, silent lightning
striking beyond visibility – journey forever forming:
your feet dancing you away so quickly, I think your
toes barely touched the ground near me.

I pondered sacrifice alone, and wish I hadn’t
told you to go – though I knew you would never say
what staying would erode within you:
you are an icon of freedom that cannot be leashed
and the continuing storm of our affection
would only drown our garden in grief…

 

April 18, 2014

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Harbinger

I was born as a spark in a cyclone, where heat
and ice collided in a sublime implosion—
they lead each other on a merry chase, but the dance
was done and I have come, a comet to race the moon
as it rises and sets, filling my eyes, and
twilight graced my lips as I whispered
the message cast in a bottle by the solar wind,
of celestial tempests and scintillating spheres: all
eerily silent…

 

April 18, 2014

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