Silent born

alone
toes over the edge
Arching back
I allow my inflated lungs to pull my chest upwards and then I leap
and plummet into life
....her tiny face, silent born
her voice echoing in my tears.
....his hands on my waist holding me
"woman" he whispers
my soul perks up and my body responds...yes
depression like an anchor pulls my body down
down
...down
to drown in the murky darkness
to wake to daylight and the dew on my face
to die with each breath, too painful to drawn in another,
close the coffin lid...
hearing the dirt falling down
hand reaching up and grabbing rung after rung
returning from mother earths womb
warm wind tousling my hair and embracing me
found my way and lost my way.
I watched the stick man die.
burned at the stake, one flame at a time
return me to the deep,
I feel the coil wind and tugged snug.
flung, catapulted to the sky, I go flailing
chest expands and I grab a lung full of life
silent born
eagle wings open and holding back the sky
flies so close her shadow touches me
she pulls me and my spirit takes flight
my tears pull me to the earth once again
slick river of blood
yellow boots
stamping out codes in the puddles
as I hopscotch down the driveway.
inhaled her last breath as she dies on my chest
and another one leaves me behind
take me with you...
take me with you....
inhaling in the night and saddened I can't translate the darkness
some cosmic code that calls to me and dances like a forgotten language on my tongue
translation lost, the echo to faint to hear again...
alone
toes over the edge
Arching back

(C) Nov 2010

Don't bother asking for a translation. This is one of those poems that I "found" scrawled in my notebooks. I Know only snatches of the images. The stick man was my friend HRP that I played Chess with. The eagle soaring over head, that happened while floating the Rogue River. The coolness of her shadow awoke me. There have been many who have died on my chest...

Somewhere within my soul is a restless writer who scribbles cryptic poems and story idea on to notes and then tucks them away till I find them. Sometimes they inspire me to write on. Sometimes they leave me wondering if perhaps I awoke from a dream and simply jotted it down.

This have been an incredibly exhausting few weeks and tomorrow is my one day off. Then I start the end of the month grind at work. I promise to write something new. I have so much I would like to write about. Just lacking the time to do so.

I just realized I do know another of the images. This one:
....his hands on my waist holding me 
"woman" he whispers
my soul perks up and my body responds...yes

It was a full moon August night and me and my friend John were out to look at the comet that was just HUGE. I was bare foot in the tall green grass and just giddy with the excitement of a full moon, a comet and the warm summer breeze. John tapped me on the shoulder and said "look."

I looked behind me and got my socks knocked off....the start of an eclipse. Freaking awesome double whammy of heavenly wonders!! Comet/eclipse of a full moon.

At the peek of the eclipse the comet just GLOWED!! it was a sight I will never forget. I threw up my arms  tossed back my head and howled. Then dropped my arms and felt my spirit lift as I left the grass. I was leaving this planet and going with the comet.


then I felt

....his hands on my waist holding me
"woman" he whispers
my soul perks up and my body responds...yes

"Do i need to chain you up to keep you here?"

I laugh and toss my long dark hair wildly. I felt my body again lift up as if infused with helium. My eyes returned to the sky.

Again, I felt his hands grab my waist and this time with a firm jerk he pulled me back.

heh.

good thing he was there to anchor me to the planet. Writers are very prone to being sucked up by passing celestial objects.