Monday, November 29, 2010

confessions p.5

She* said it would hurt,
and it does,
and I can...
I can be a great desert,
barren abyss, light-less.
I can be empty spaces
or Robert Frost's "desert places".
I can be the inertia of sleep,
I can taste everything
that I dislike, within myself.
And I will hurt,
and this heart will break,
and I can spend my moments
in lethargic nostalgia,
trying to pick up the pieces.


Or I can find that heart of hearts
in the spaces between moments,
throw it in abandon to the wind,
and I can laugh
in the face of each heartbreak.
And laughing, I can greet
each of Rumi's "daily guests,"
even sorrow and melancholy
will get their chuckle,
because there is something
in my soul that cannot be defined
in any emotional state,
some magical alchemy
that wants to flood out every day,
like pure being,
or the opposite of fear...

-Robert Frost's Desert Places:  http://www.internal.org/Robert_Frost/Desert_Places
-Rumi's the Guest House:  http://www.panhala.net/Archive/The_Guest_House.html

*the "She" in the opening line is a reference to this song:

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