Friday, September 28, 2012

broken whole

I came to you
like one searching in pitch black for the light-switch

I came to you
sick of all my broken words
seeking another tongue
and when my fumbling fingers finally found that light-switch
it was your voice that spoke through my mouth

I came to you
from a land of setting suns
seeking another dawn

I came to you
carrying the pieces of my self
burdened and broken with the weight of my own forgetfulness

I offered you these fragments of my self
in a platter of jigsaw puzzle pieces
hoping you could figure me out
and make me whole again

How was I supposed to know
that being whole is just an illusion?

I came to you
seeking salvation in a line from a poem that you once wrote
I came to you seeking a solution
giving you the scattered jigsaw of my soul
in some wild hope that you would be the one
who knew how it all fit together

And you took those pieces
and you let them slip from your fingers
like autumn leaves, all the while
looking straight in my eyes
looking straight into my heart
and you said

Even this
even this illusion of salvation
was necessary for you to know 
that to be whole is to be broken
and to be broken is to be whole


I never left the sacred ground
of that point in time where we met

And instead of picking up those broken pieces
with which I approached you
I now carry your memory

Those shards of my old self
still lie where they fell from your fingers
unmoved from the winds
they have taken root in the earth
and grown with Spring into shoots and sprouts
spelling out my renewed vows
against this inheritance of forgetfulness

And even this
even all of this
even sacred scars and stitches holding together shattered hearts
even the forgetfulness that I lament
has been nothing short of divinely necessary
for me to remember the echo of your name

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

confessions p 23

We laugh, but we do not really laugh
we cry, but we have forgotten how to weep
we breathe, but we do not subside
and come to life with each breath

I am realizing more and more
that many of us look but we do not see
we touch, but do not really feel
we hear, but do not really listen

we love, but we do not burn
we live, but we do not die
because that which is already dead does not die
and we leave, without ever having really been here in the first place

Monday, September 17, 2012


a turn back inward
the search for the lost heart
the soul's inquiry
quest for self-knowledge
to find the origin
a rediscovery of meaning
the triumph of mercy
an internalization of knowledge
relearning the language of the heart
unlearning what is not heart
remembering roots
a reification of the soul. 

conversation with the heart p. 2

The beloved asked her lover
when did you first love me?

The lover replied
I loved you before mirrors
before I could recognize my own reflection.
I loved you before I knew the words "I" and "You"
I loved you before names
and before the myriad forms.
I loved you before the need for any number greater than one.
I loved you before the sea of beginnings forever born.
I loved you before the Moon became enamored of the Earth.
I loved you blind, before sight, before light
before death and before life.
I loved you when there was only Love
and Time and Space had to be created
just so Love could find expression.