April 2: Voyage

The element; Compass of patches

 

The element

Feet take me lumbering through forests I wish
I appreciated more, snagged in bushes and by
branches, shambling down beaten paths and
up slopes to make me groan; but all of this is
immaterial, filed away in a cabinet of discomfort,
and, when cured in a vat of time – all of it will shine
with the polish of fond memory: a new truth to believe.

The mind darts from deep underground out
to the pitiless vacuum that is a siren’s call to my soul,
across seas where those I love dwell, in an instant one
with all and everywhere at once; through mountains,
valleys, raging storms and tranquil oases, from
jungles to deserts intoxicating with memory seeped—
and all of this I only wish were a journey of reality…

My heart is impartial in the world, a snug ball of
dozing comfort, but when a veil of darkness descends
and everyone is transfixed in a theater of dreams,
my heart leaps up and dashes into impossibility:
in a cloak spun of the fabric of the universe, unheeding
of the strictures of what can be – it dapples with magics
of worlds unseen, it lives the dream and drinks deeply…

Such madness is my composition, an element
comprised of wishes, lusts for the unobtainable and
enamored only slightly by the tangible, yet
pulsing with a curious and chaotic harmony; where
my mind dwells, my heart creates, though my feet
take me only to the precipice of the plunge: but one day
I promise myself, heart, mind and body will journey as one.

 

April 2, 2014

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Compass of patches

The night blends places together, molding the shape of my heart
where the skies, the lights and the roots soothe
the aches of constant flux—
here, I had wonders at my fingertips, but
also a deep shelter battered by incessant storms: I left this place
to run weeping and elated into the embrace of a freedom
I had never known nor sought before;
there, I had the world dancing with me, my eyes filled
with a lover’s tenderness as a king of faeries swept me away,
but though I strayed and explored, the time came, and
I left my nest for good…
my roots are bared and raw, with the fissures of wandering,
the callouses of always moving on—
those wounds never quite seem to heal completely, always
digging in no matter how strong I rebuild myself to be…
the pattern of the world holds dips for memories to pool in, and
this fine weave holds many such for me, but in each
it is not truly the place that never lets me go, it is not
cunning memory that keeps bleeding me of resolve – no:
what haunts me at its depth
is the suffering of everyone else, as they watch,
smiling to twist my heart in anguish and
secretly hoping I would one day return, but always
they let me go… with the small gifts and strangled silences,
the confident stances riddled with sadness, a raised arm
to wave a farewell, but always
almost reaching after; and my desperate walls crumble and
I run faster, craven and hoping none of them ever sees
how deeply those strings tie into me, and how they shred… but
I would never sever them, for as painfully as they tug
to let them go completely would be my undoing, I know, the final
crushing of that which keeps me more or less whole:
the loss of reason to excuse this flux—
this flux, that nourishes a hidden desire to go again and again,
the winds that fill my sails and whisper promises of
new experience, and new, dreaded strings… but most important:
a promise that distance will close again, that I might
never suffer again…
…but a grain of truth in my heart built of places knows:
for I can never be without distance from one to
draw close to another – it knows and mourns, but it is
the fire in my step that keeps me forever moving, forever
pointing towards elusive “home”…

 

April 2, 2014

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