Curvature

SOC Writing _ 2.10.21

Curvature

I curve around the pain inside my cavity, pause on the beach and look backward - double over because I feels so heavy. This boulder remains from a bygone age – how did I pick it up? I do not know - but it weighs me down – the only solace – lying in the sea - dying in the sea – arms open – heart open willing surrender to the moon – pleading for a surgeon to start the work already begun. I pulled death from the stack – an ominous sign – the pope riding up high in front of the skeleton horse – maiden and boy bowing – dead king lay eaten by creatures – worms – the earth and the ship sailed – wind in its sails off to where? I cannot make sense of these days – its new to have love that really loves and yet still feel the old pain of abandonment eating at my insides - I know I am growing – yet this growth through facing challenge is – well fucking challenging – I don’t know how to roll with it except take each step as it comes – ask for support, be honest – and lie until the next phase comes. I jolly well want you back – considered a kidnapping – really, I did – steal you away from that place you get lost in - take you and make you mine – this instinct to want and to name you as my own seems to grow in me not diminish – as here on the page I feel no need to apologise for potentially getting it wrong – I lean into loving you – all of you – swept in the heart crack – wanting your heart to break also for me – for the particular us-ness and not just whole field of love – I know its there - in the mix, in the mire, in the fire – the goings and comings of you in my dreams was torturous last night – so much dying – aching in me – so much I have to lean again the tree, say my prayers, water the garden – make myself useful for else I self destruct – this longing – this particular connection disconnect has potency and will see itself come a cropper – yet – I pause, make a cup of tea, welcome Mara and say good morning love, how are you?