Periscope

Steaming tea mists the windows and the trickles of tears remind me of winter
The grey view.
Brushing off my senses, to the real task
The mind wipes the dirt off of it’s database and rumbles into action, searching,
The vacuum whirs
A headache of knowing that you are going to do something, and you do not know what.

The ache reaches to your loins, the innermost parts of you,
pressing into the fear that underlies your every action, that you might not be able to manage today, that you might die.

But there’s no use in dying
Not today
Try finding a line, for the song of it
Even if there is nothing to say

It’s gaping you know
The truth.
I see you living in the in-between places in your mind
because of pain.
Even pain that’s not around anymore.
Even pain that you made to warm yourself.

Look at your reflection in the hourglass, sister
The only you you ever knew
and take flickers from the water,
make a periscope,
and watch them fly.

 


-Ben

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Image by Ruatsanga

Wandering

Let the birds watch you

and listen to their call

Simply

Because it is beautiful

 

Let the feet walk you

wherever they ponder,

feel the dry mud and cool stone

maybe the crisp crackles of the twigs

will speak to you

 

Nature knows something

That it is fine

 

Ride the feeling into blissful silence

Simply to have a listen

 

Explore the rough bark of the trees,

They sit there quietly for many centuries

you know

 

There’s no need of a journey,

just simply wander

wondering

Fear

Bright lights

Late nights

no reason

for former or latter

or the eyes

becoming watched

and unable to see

all in order to alleviate

The Fear.

 

The colour was stolen

by a grey thief,

an ogre under burned bridges

in shadows

 

A vacuum makes

the mind jump up and down,

though the dark nothing knows the body in it’s limpness

and tells why the blue waters turned a stagnant green,

why algae and fungus

rid the lily pads of youth,

becoming the green

on that it depended

 

To fall

or not to fall

 

The itch grows

It knaws slowly under the skin

Sapping at the life blood

 

It’s felt in the flowers and the trees

and the birds and the bees

and the insects

 

 

Once, layed on a soft pillow of green spires

a break to pass

while staring up at the sky,

the time to be filled

is so far away

still

just sleep…

 

Then seeing the original eye

in a cluster of cloud

in the shape of a lotus flower

 

Understanding a sight

A connection

The heart pumped oxygen into the belly of the wilder-beast

 

that Breathing strength through the ascension

of the paths of the mountain

and Listening

With unflinching peace,

beguiled leaves

to fall,

to be reborn.

 

 

-Ben