Passing Storm (again)

•October 11, 2014 • Leave a Comment

This morning I blot out the sun
Low and heavy like the clouds
I took on too much of this rising world
And now it’s time to pour it out

A weighty threshold has been breached
These million drops of nothing full
Evaporated by the light and heat
And changing states inside my skull

So, I grumble and I crack the sky
I open up and let Hell loose
Slow down the plans you thought you made
Stand drenched in solvent truth

There is no way around this rain
It will be finished when I’m empty
Dissolved and waiting to be formed again
From earthly tears I’ll gather in me

-a.r.

raining_in_my_mind_by_ayvhan27-d2yvjym

Digital art: Raining in my mind, by ayvhan27, from deviantart.com

Posted in Abuse, Body, Family, Friendship, Human Rights, Humanity, Loss, Nature, Poetry, Women's Issues
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Trigger

•October 10, 2014 • 2 Comments

I am marked
But I do not notice
Yet
The slightest pressure
Triggers an explosion
And a hollow point projectile
Slices the atmosphere
Slamming into me
Shredding upon entry
I NEVER EVER see it coming
I am hit in my blind spot
So hard I swivel
My brain sloshing
In my fractured skull
I am disoriented
What the hell was that?
My vision narrows to tunnel
I am suddenly sweating
From all pores
Profusely frightened
Blood is pulled from my limbs
I am numb
Shaking and cooling
My resources pumped and pooling
Inside my middle, vital
Organs filling for survival
And then
I am angry
WHAT THE FUCK!
I am sick of this
Trigger-happy culture
And the concentric circles
Of my psyche
Available for target practice
Whenever and without warning
Until I am left riddled with holes
Shreds of me swaying
In this stale exhaling wind
I cannot patch them
Fast enough
Before another flash
BANG
And I am thrown back
Again
Entirely
To the exact moment when
I said no
But he
Didn’t listen

-a.r.

TattooedLady Jennifer DavisPainting: Tattooed Lady by Jennifer Davis

Posted in Abuse, Body, Poetry, Women's Issues, Women's Rights
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Quickening (again)

•October 10, 2014 • 2 Comments

If I’m not consistent
At least I’m authentic
If I think it or feel it, it’s written
Even talentless drought
I still must let that out
So the next better one can be quickened

-a.r.

Marisa-THE-QUICKENINGPainting: The Quickening by Marisa

Posted in Identity, Writing
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Unashamed

•October 7, 2014 • 7 Comments

I will not apologize

For my sex
For my flesh
For the curves
Of my drive
Any more
Than I would
Be ashamed
Of my being alive

I will not be sorry

For my shy
For my discreet
For the tamed
Heartbeats
Any more
Than I would
Be ashamed
Of my becoming me

I will not conceal

All my sparks
All my steel
The molten me
That flames revealed
Any more
Than I would
Be ashamed
Of learning how to feel

I will not feign forlorn

For the buds
For the thorns
For the changes
I have worn
Any more
Than I would
Feel ashamed
For my having been born

Not Anymore.

-A.R.

IMG_1435.JPG
Painting: The Unashamed by Pamela Wilson

Posted in Abuse, Body, Death, Family, Friendship, God, Humanity, Identity, Marriage, Meditation, Motherhood, Music, Nature, Poetry, Women's Issues, Writing
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Another Life

•October 6, 2014 • Leave a Comment

In another life
I let myself be chained
And am completed by you
In another life
I am childless and free
And translating philosophy
In another life
I starve myself thin
And am made happy by it
In another life
I am full and thick
And find myself in my folds
In another life
I fly across the globe
And feel only freedom
In another life
My home is enough
And I am happily grounded
In another life
I am born in chaos
And my soul is owned by it
In another life
I grow in serenity
And I am formed by tranquility
In another life
I move curvy in my skin
Unashamed outside and in
In another life
I am statuesque
And sturdiness is second nature
In another life
I play music loud and lusty
And in it find enlightenment
In another life
Silence and stillness come easily
And lay themselves on me like a blanket
In another life
I am tightly caged
And I scream the truth at wall flies
In another life
I am speaking from podiums
And slicing words with precision
In another life
I am animal, petted and loved
And my instinct is stilled
In another life
I am stalking and hunting
And feeding my hunger by night
In another life
I never think of that other life
And my restlessness stays static
But in this life
This and there are intertwined
And I am certain the other holds an answer

-a.r.

Between Two Worlds by gyurka from deviantARTBetween Two Worlds by gyurka from deviantART

Posted in Body, Family, Identity, Marriage, Meditation, Motherhood, Poetry
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I slept in

•October 4, 2014 • 1 Comment

A fog

Of should-have’s

Rolling in

My body rested

But beware

Those rocky chores

Along the shore

Keep them at bay

Until late

Morning’s clearing

-a.r.

IMG_1412.JPG

Posted in Body, Family, Motherhood, Poetry
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Circus Stays

•October 3, 2014 • 2 Comments

What is it that keeps me pinned
While holding back the rain and wind
Thick ropes tethering tent to earth
Pulled straight, my tugging tarpaulin

What is it that keeps me tame
Performing every show the same
Dressed and dazzling under lights
My wild then shoved back in its cage

What is it that keeps me trapped
My face made up, my body wrapped
Twisting tumbling towards the ground
Feigning my faith that ropes don’t snap

What is it that keeps me on
Directing rings, attention drawn
Calling out their names and games
But pulling stakes before the dawn

What is it that brings us back
And keeps us traveling down this track
From one tiny town to next?
The prickled flesh during the act

-a.r.

The Circus Georges Seurat Painting: The Circus by Georges Seurat

Inspired by someone, and started, a year ago. It didn’t work then so I let it lay dormant.

It came back today and asked for life…today I had it to give.

Posted in Body, Dance, Family, Friendship, Humanity, Identity, Poetry, Whimsy
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Fall (again)

•October 2, 2014 • 3 Comments

I am letting go of leaves
Or are they letting go of me
I watch their downward drifting
Rocking back and forth by breeze
Cradled quiet on their journey
A silent lullaby
I hang with each one in the air
Once soft and green now brown and dry
I choose to watch their falling
My nature aches to be reminded
How very short a season lasts
Born sycamore instead of pine
I was made to shed this skin
Grey rolls of cardboard slipping slight
Leaning with the wind I have a look
At pieces scattered left and right
I shake the weight of my bare branches
Absorb the fading warmth and light
I was not made to endure changes
While remaining straight and green
From root to tip, where blackbirds grip
The travel of the earth, I feel it

-A.R.

Study of a sycamorePainting: Study of a Sycamore Branch by Drusilla Montemayor

Posted in Death, Humanity, Identity, Nature, Poetry
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Taking Flight

•October 1, 2014 • 2 Comments

Geese once again
Echo and ascend
I can never tell
If they simply usher seasons
Or portend,
A warning bell

-a.r.

Geese Migrating Andrea Meredith

Photograph by Meredith Bell, DreamerFineArts on Etsy.com

Posted in Death, Nature, Poetry, Twitter, Whimsy
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This Edge

•September 30, 2014 • Leave a Comment

Support
Like stepping-stones
Simply got me to this edge
My choice now to turn and hedge
Or jump, free fall, with fear and all
Into that descending mist
Disguised, and hissing
Gentle pools or jagged rocks below
Either way I choose to go
Embraced by soft splashing
Or quick-hit crunching
Fleshy floating, bone and stone
Either way this leap is mine
And I’ll be flying for a time

-a.r.

oparkaa-waterfall-painting-linda-phelps

Painting: Oparkaa Waterfall by Linda Phelps

(reposted for my daughter and for her bravery today)

Posted in Death, Family, Identity, Motherhood, Nature, Poetry, Writing
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