Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Hesitancy

What position doesn't fluctuate? If the real is what returns to itself, can I? How can I stop the constant shifting, my heart, my muse?

Monsieur, I cannot flow in one direction. Despite effort, a contradictoriness. Potent feelings flow in opposite directions, collide, aren't neat, contained, tidy or even explicable. While I would like to not be confused, unsure, and have only my own fears to battle, I am a storm of paradoxes.

Always departing, never arriving.

Can writing write this impossibility? Such honour of the heart.

I curve and sway with your rhythms in a dance of intimacy. We are a single flower, padma lotus, spectral whiteness of prisms, following an inner light, its lightning, even as the moon's tides surge in us.

It happened suddenly, in the quietness of the moment.

Afterwards, enwrapped, arms of peace, and a peace that lasts for many days. And then the breaking, chaos swirls over.

There is a way through. A way through the resisting what we are approaching, pulling away, succumbing, falling back. Even with the red and white blossoms that perhaps notice us or don't, roses of love with baby's breath in the pale blue art deco vase on the table beside the nightlight. Even in the cramped place with roots behind the walls that we can't see, on the soft pale cream sheets. In reciprocity.

2 comments:

  1. Dearest Brenda,
    Do you happen to have any of the comments from when you had this at Xanga? I wrote something random that started with "Iterate," and I realize well after the fact that I liked it and should have copied and pasted it elsewhere before I gave it to you, my inspiration. Either way, much love!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Anonymous3:17 PM

    A sensual contemplation and beautifully written~

    Truly~

    Blessings~

    ReplyDelete

A Pulsing Imagination - Ray Clews' Paintings

A video of some of my late brother Ray's paintings and poems I wrote for them. Direct link: https://youtu.be/V8iZyORoU9E ___