Art, Beginnings, feminism, mythology, Poetry, religion, sexuality

Like Lights

I was raised on a religion that broke my heart & now

I am forever feeding on this sacred host

& drinking it’s blood for life

like a vampire praying for release

from the bondage of eternal life.

Life that broke my back in it’s stride

& seems hellbent on forever tossing me in the fly of its waking,

dreaming,

learning to heal, I slept seeking

a refuge in every other religion

imaginable

I want to absorb All the knowledge,

read everything passed through

historical IV networks of written words

I used to feel wise

It seems the older I get the less I know

& now 19 year olds are calling me Fool or Foul

& I am stuck on repeat

& I’ve memorized my patterns of pain

so perfectly I can replicate it them all through

my subconscious mistakes seamlessly.

Is where we are broken truly where beauty is found?

Does the light really filter in through our cracks?

I used to think healing was something you

did once & for all

& Then you lived.

but I am learning that salt has a way of always

finding your scars, & once your marked,

You’re marked for life.

So I’m floundering as all the darkness pours

in through all those crevices.

The only thing I’ve learned is that at some point

the tide always recedes

& the glass is always both half empty

and half full, Both,

you hear?

& as my mother crouches closer to death

she starts babbling louder about saving people &

I wonder does fear do that to you?

But see, we are all like that, often it seems so much

easier to save someone else,

other than ourselves,

& my friend Shanti told me once that she viewed Faith in 3’s

for if you don’t have faith in yourself,

the situation,

& those around you, then

what truly do you faith in?

Shanti means Peace in Sanskrit – I think there’s some

kind of wisdom in that,

& these days I am loath to admit that my faith is shaky at best,

deterring on eyes of distrust & “is that really what my intuition said?”

But I keep on breathing, placing

one foot in front of the other, listening

to the hum of fallen angels raining past

my ears

& I keep looking with wide eyes

both up, & down &

all around,

Inside, sometimes with wonder

& sometimes often trying to not.

So if one thing of beauty made life worthwhile

would you live it?

One thing.

Would you choose this path just to see the sunset

divide your heart into multi coloured hues

one more time?

would you cry just to feel the wonderment of wetness,

reigning down your eyes in a tantrum of a tempest?

& would you live just to howl from the very depths within you

at the injustice of living?

For fairness is a mystery we tell ourselves

as we lick our wounds

so that others cannot see them

& once you wonder why me? Why is it always

me? when its is truly ALL of us – forever united

by our smiles that mask & reveal

the great fires, ever burning,

so wickedly brilliant,

white hot,

within us.

Copyright Adrienne Adams December 18th 2013

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