Friday, June 1, 2012

After the Storm


I give you give,
after the storm. You leave me
mirrors smashing
shards of red crashing
after I give you a piece
of feeling carried by troubled water.

I could not deliver it well. I did not know how to.
It corroded from the inside .
It pushed out the seams,
pulled rope,
sinking in,
shaking my vessel.

I tried to get you closer to hear it,
to see it.
I'm sorry it was distant.

Moving forwards
in all directions now,
between mine
stirring the space
and my insides,
breathing the sensations
purple crushing back water on your far off blue shores.

I want to pour over you
and wrap you in dry amor.
I want to snap into pieces,
                                          parts have began to fall
splintering and drifting
until you see nothing
but my naked truth.

I am not sorry
for delivering the word.
I am not apologizing for sharing a piece of me,
a piece of feeling.

              I am sorry
              my feeling was not articulated
              in flesh. I am sorry it was cold.
              I am sorry that the sparks on the wire of communication
ignited into an electrical storm of crashing vessels and messengers birds preying on every word, every letter, mistake and floundering attempt to listen to a kind of understanding. 

My white flag is raised in hopes that we can see each other and remember ourselves. I do not want to pick up these broken mirror shards alone.  I do not want to float in this space of unresolution. I want to greet you on dry land
with both feet in the sand
knowing that
we are both heard
and mutually respected.