Wednesday, September 3, 2014

breaking bottles: on a day at the faire

breaking bottles: on a day at the faire

a twenty dollar bill handed to me with instructions
keep breaking them until this is spent
you must break them with intent
you must make noise when you break them

waiting in line with my brothers and my beloved teacher
opening the box I keep it in
easier than I thought it would be
taking it out and holding it
too easy…

I choose a white plate,
perfect for holding the food I did not want to eat
“Smiles “written in black on the smooth clean surface
for the smiles my mother wanted, for her unease with my sorrow
for the lessons in hiding anything that makes others uncomfortable

I scream as I throw it against the concrete wall,
my voice is forced, awkward, so too is the action
no power from a body unaccustomed to such an overt act

next is an artifact from childhood
my brother used to collect the round glass insulators
my father would bring home
from working on the telephone lines

that irony informed my sense of humor
the man who taught me silence
belonged to the Communications Workers Local

“Silence” written upon it
it takes three tries to break it

each time I scream, 
it robs me of strength
too much effort towards sound that only draws attention
does not accomplish anything

words have power
written in black on objects to be destroyed

for the silence of his anger
three days of not being seen

for the way he taught me to keep silence
for the lessons in not showing what you feel

for the silence they wanted instead of truth

no one in my family tells stories
no one writes poetry
but we all keep secrets

I gave up screaming
and my body discovered strength and power
and how to put my weight behind the action

the bottles flying in a graceful arch, like the crest of a wave
crashing upon the beach
shattering into pieces against a wall as hard as my heart
with a sound like the bomb inside me exploding
destroying that which was written upon it in black letters

“Compliance” for the years I gave away
for the lies I told to keep their peace
for the fights I never fought
for delivering my power into the hands of others

“Fear” for the chances I never took
for all the times I stayed timid and small
to make everyone feel safe but me

“Doubt” for the way I learned not to trust anyone
especially not my own mind, or heart, or magick

“Secrets” for the things we don’t talk about…

“Shame” for depression
for submission
for desire

“Good Girl” for never being one
for wishing I could be
for never being called one
for wishing someone would…
just once

“Expectations” for never really knowing what they are
for never being able to meet them
for always trying to anyway
for failing every time

“Ice Princess” for every blind and stupid idiot
who ever looked at me
and decided that was what I am
and for every time I believed them

"Unworthy” for the dreams that I still have
that tell me I have been judged
that I can never be good enough
to be loved

the last bottle in pieces

putting it back in the box where I keep it
is not so easy…

Sunday, August 31, 2014

the Coming of Winter...

Winter is coming
and you will be quitting me soon...

I know this fact
every moment of every day...

Each day the beast draws closer
with each breath, with each beat
with the fall of each night
the day becomes shorter
the darkness grows and
the silence creeps closer...

It stalks me
watching and waiting for the moment
that moment when you will touch me for the last time...

The cold silence waits for me
it waits until you are gone
it waits for that moment
to wrap its cold, dark silence around me
to hold me untouched, cold and silent
all through the long dark months...

I can feel it closing in on me
and I want to scream...

No you cannot take me!
I am Warm and Alive!
I hold Fire inside me!

But no matter how I rage against it
no matter how hard I beat my fists against the tomb
no matter...

I cannot escape 
the coming of Winter.

Saturday, August 16, 2014

Let me...

Let me laugh, let me dream; let me be a child…

Let me grow, let me learn; let me burn like wild…

Let me work, let me play; let me have some fun…

Let me run, let me roam; let me have freedom…

Let me live, let me love; let me do my thing…

Let me dance, let me give; I have a song to sing!

June 1977  my first poem  age 11

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

the price

the price we sold ourselves for
was never the nine pieces of tarnished silver in the kitchen drawer
four knives, two forks and three spoons…

it wasn't the pair of used sneakers two sizes too big for our feet
or two pairs of cast-off jeans
and three worn-out t-shirts that we wore all week
clean or not, ‘cause maybe they didn’t get washed
but they were all we had to wear in January…

or the greasy popcorn we ate for a week
‘cause there was nothing else in the place

it wasn’t the broken bone
that never healed right
‘cause she couldn’t be bothered
to take us back to the doctor…

or the looks from our teachers and our classmates
that said they could see our darkness
and it made them nervous …

it wasn’t the hand that never touched our hair
or the eyes that looked right through us
like we were never even there
or the words of pride that our ears never heard...

or the touch we craved like addicts

it wasn’t the anger that filled our bellies
or the guilt we felt for always wanting more...

or all the things we did
to buy oblivion instead…

it wasn’t the time we spent on our knees begging
or the years spent quiet, timid and small
trying to kill our own strength...

locking our anger
fear, rage, pain and need
inside our bellies...

keeping our heart encased in ice
‘til it turned stone cold and hollow 
unshed tears freezing and falling
building a glacier against hope...

hoping it would die silently
so not to make anyone uneasy…

it was never the choices that we made
to deliver our power into the hands of the careless…

the price we sold ourselves for
was the belief that we could never be
good enough to deserve better…

Sunday, June 15, 2014

Lunae Memoriae

My Lady sails through silver sky,
Her pale skin, a shade of light,
She glows in brilliant radiance, my lover faire.

With gentle grace she wanders through the night,
Her gossamer gown flows ‘round about her feet,
Her footsteps leaving stardust in her path.

She sings with laughter, starlight song,
Her voice, a gentle shining mist,
Whispering the mystery.

Her soft touch, cool as evening aire,
Her kisses shimmer on my skin,
Gifts of music, soft and sweet.

Dancing through eternity,
My lover faire,
My Lady of sweet memory.

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

To the Queen of the Abyss…

Once upon a time, you were brilliant and beautiful.
Full of power and blessed with privilege,
You danced upon the stage of life,
full-glorious in the light, admired by all.
Desiring all that you could see,
All that you desired was yours.

Vain and entitled, life was a game and you,
The Queen, reveling in your mastery of it,
played with abandon and the carelessness
of one who has never known the truth of sorrow.

Confident within yourself, and in the rightness of your power,
you played with your puppets
and tossed them aside when the next pretty thing caught your eye.
For the desire of some sparkling token,
You used your power to have what you desired,
 and destroyed something of true worth.

Did you know it then? Or did you only discover it after?

Now you stand, in your silent isolation, as cold as the corpses you left behind,
Hooded and cloaked in darkness, seeing nothing, making no sound.
Your grief and despair wail unceasingly, surrounding you,
filling your cavernous Temple of Sorrows,
moving upon the rushing waters swirling continuously at your feet.
These are your powers, your sorrows, your purpose.
These are your children and your treasures, this sound and this temple.
Here in the Abyss you reign as Queen.

You followed me for lifetimes, unseen, unknown,
lifetimes more have I carried you.

The time has come to bid farewell,
But my heart is reluctant to lose you. 
For what if, without you and your sorrow,
my heart is empty, or I have no heart at all?
You have been my companion, a part of me, for so very long,
how do I abandon you forever?
Will I still know myself without your sorrow in my soul?

 I must let you go,
I must cut the thread that binds us.
Unless I do, we will always dance together in the darkness.
I must step forward into my purpose, my future,
Into my power, and the light.
You have taught me well through time of many lives. 
My heart and soul will remember you,
even when I am free of your sorrow and your grief.
I promise you that what is remembered lives.

And maybe someday we will dance together in the light.

Friday, January 24, 2014

Falling into the fire...

I had a dream…
You were there, offering me all that I had once desired…
Offering me the chance to fall …
back into all the old patterns and habits of my past.
Offering me the opportunity to return to the veil,
that hides me from myself and from the light.
I woke knowing that I could not have you,
or risk returning to the shadows.

I told myself   “Do not fall in love with him.
He is too strong for you.
You will lose yourself again.
Do not fall in love with him.”
But it was already far too late…

I fell, Oh how I fell…
And I am falling still…
It matters not that you are not in love with me…
or that you cannot be.
It makes no difference that I am strong enough without you,
Or with you, or that I am not with you.
or that you wear the face of God, or that He wears yours.
I no longer know which, and it no longer matters.

For I am strong enough to love a God…
and to stand in the light.
I no longer need to hide behind the veil…
I can stand and fall and fall and fall…
And still I stand…

I stand in the light no matter how I fall…
The falling is no longer to be feared…
The fire inside your mind, your heart, your soul…
Sparks the flame within my own
Your body sets my own on fire
And so I fall …

into the magick of falling
in love with you…
and I stand in the light of the fire...
even as I fall…