Thursday, January 9, 2014

holding your hand

Crumpling
It's there inside
no matter what it looks like
on the outside

a moment here
a moment there
the wind might shift
a movie ends
and the cracks break through
burning my brown eyes
crumpling my heart
my hopes
my future

I see the road.  I see it empty
of cars
the wind blows
trash tumbles one side to the other
an empty cup carrying someone's lost screams
rolling and clanging uncrushed cans

so much laughter lived here
still does
it doesn't stop the breaking

there is a desire to make the pain
something seen
with blood
a wound recognized
with the eyes

contemplating immobility
wondering how it is that
the empty keeps following me
even when I don't seem to be moving

History replays and makes me wonder
how deeply we make our own beds
as in, do we end up surrounded
by the things we believe, somehow?

knees creak
eyes swell
hands and lips are missed
so deep it feels like the Pacific Ocean
is inside
and it reaches to the rocky bottoms
deeper than depths divers visit

Yes, the eyes
the eyes that sparkle and shine
so blue
the brown breaks down
and drowns

everything shrivels, bends, twists to breaking points

but nothing breaks
nothing ends
while everything disappears
inside immobility moving makes
no difference

it's all there no matter where you go
no matter when

lift your leg, place your foot
keep moving
even if you go nowhere
precious time heals whatever you wear
except those things
it can never touch
because the crumpling covered it all
buried it safe and deep
where lonely angels long
for loving fingers intertwining

regardless of time, death, or reality.