Why Risk It?

Why am I still contemplating
creative new ways to cause myself pain?
how is it that all of these years
have not touched this yearning?

Can it really be a mere illusion
the way these thoughts light me up inside?
am I meant to simply be grateful for memories
and images that will never be made manifest again?

Maybe the meaning is the love itself
made not to be reciprocated, but to remind me
that I am capable of genuine unconditional devotion
that the liquid depths of my soul still exist

All intention is lost in the static of raw emotion
what do I really expect for the outcome of reaching out?
afraid I'll end up losing this thunderclap of hope
that still crashes upon me from time to time

The electric current of sudden signs
that make my heart start cracking open
with the swelling ache of undying affection
that smarts and soothes simultaneously

I shudder to think what would be left
if I lost this last refuge of lingering longing
the safe harbor I've held onto of precious pain
that is sweeter than any prayer

Advertisement

Terminally Yours

Missing you is a chronic illness
an ongoing inflammation of the heart
it comes and goes in sudden flareups
then subsides back into remission

Regular checkups have become routine
monitoring my emotion for warning signs
self screening for the sharp pain of longing
trying to stay mindful when it overtakes me

Some days it feels like I'm finally better
probing into those tender places doesn't hurt at all
but then for some reason I start to ache again
and all the stiches inside my heart are unsown

An ocean of grief opens up inside me
bright, blood-red waters fill my lungs
with the violent crashing waves
of all that once was

This condition of loving you cannot be cured
I think I'll always carry it with me
I think I like the days with pain
they make me feel close to you again

A Challenge

I wouldn't suffer a man
who'd expect me to submit
or settle for one who would
always leave me to lead

I need someone who knows
how to tame and tend hot flames
a soul with the stature and strength
to make mine savor a surrender

To be softly swallowed up
in faithful protection and
gently nestled in a magnetic field
of overwhelming trust and safety

My writhing agitation and anger within
must be melted with the sedative
of a light hearted nature that
soothes with abundant laughter

I cannot be held by a handsome face
beautiful bodies quickly become boring
the brilliant aura of a burning spirit
is the only sight that makes me swoon

Come collect me, if you dare
the dragon my prince must defeat
is perched upon my very essence
with ignited wings of pride and passion

I will not be insulted or made to stoop
or force my consciousness to condescend
my lover must be like the tide
that makes all boats rise

Green Tea Memories

Tea has been a re-occurring theme throughout my tangled life. My mother always preferred drinking tea to coffee. Her nervous nature simply couldn’t handle that much caffeine. Mornings filled with the fragrance of spices and herbs, clinking spoons, and tiny damp disposable bags.

Tea soaked wounds of my first broken heart remind me of moments of reluctant connection. It’s easy to wake up early when you’ve slept for over twenty four hours in the last two days. Dreams can only provide an escape for so long. When even that sanctuary is stolen from you, I learned that peace can be found in the slow ritual of sipping tea before sunrise. The begrudging silence between mother and daughter, the surrender of accepting help from someone you despise. Because you need her, and that hurts in its own strange way.

New love blossoms around a very different tea routine. Evenings after school, every day spent looking forward to this small, private heaven. Boiling water in the microwave and adding too much honey. The laughter we once shared when you finally admitted you couldn’t bear the way my overly sweetened tea made your lips sticky. Flirtatious frustration from the way you used to tease me for blowing on my drink before every sip instead of waiting for it to cool.

The soft haven found beneath the crumbling roof of your mother’s house. Her hovering hospitality of sharing joints with underaged teens, providing refreshments of my first teas made with milk. The strange, yet soothing smoothness of the subtle flavor. Savoring the mouth-watering smells of the best home-cooked dinners I’ve ever had being prepared in the next room.

All these years later, my heart can still rekindle those tender memories involuntarily as I sip my milky matcha. The most delicious ache, a powerful longing for a life that no longer exists. Beautiful lapping waves of private sorrow, never to be seen or shared. How can so much pleasure be found in such pathetic pining? Surely this secret clinging is a sickness, a delusion that corrodes all chance of a future. Even so, even so…

Unsatisfied

My heart has been heaving sighs of discontent for days and days. Everywhere I look my energy is focused on what is lacking. I project myself into other people’s positions and convince myself happiness is beyond my reach, but not theirs. Envy, sharp and bitter vines twisting through my veins, poisons the fertile soil inside my soul. These feelings find relief through reframing, realizing I already have more than I could have ever asked for.

Picturing in the palm of one hand, this illusion of life that I’m lusting after, all the promise and perfection I’m imagining there. Then in the other palm, my own precious life, the beings I love most in this world. I contemplate a bargain with the universe that could be made, to trade what I have for these things I think would bring me happiness and spare all future suffering. Oh, the stinging swell of gratitude that rises up to resist this inconceivable option! I would easily forsake the most coveted riches and situations for the life and love I already possess. What a great comfort it is to consciously consider this fact.

This simple practice is a powerful reminder of how much love I already have inside, how much happiness is already in the life before me, if only I take the time to look. When I catch myself longing for something else and lamenting the lot I’ve gotten in life, I remember the true value of my current reality when I meditate on the ridiculous notion of exchanging it for another.