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,
learning to heal, I slept seeking
a refuge in every other religion
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,
& 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,
& 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
& I keep looking with wide eyes
both up, & down &
Inside, sometimes with wonder
& sometimes often trying to not.
So if one thing of beauty made life worthwhile
would you live it?
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,
Copyright Adrienne Adams December 18th 2013