||[Sep. 16th, 2009|08:26 pm]
in media res
Palaces and storm clouds|
The rough, straggly sage
And the smoke
And the way it will all come together
In quietness and in time
And you laws of property
Oh, you free economy
And you unending afterthoughts
You could've told me before
Never get so attached to a poem
You forget truth that lacks lyricism
Never draw so close to the heat
That you forget that you must eat, oh...
this is the last step. the final thread, so tenuous that it snaps at the slightest movement. there's no telling, no warning a person when it will finally break.
you have but to turn your head. this one. last. time.
my dears, i've been backsliding. the minute i understood, i dug my heels in. it took a slap in the face, but i feel the color coming back.
it's done with-- that's not what i want to talk about.
it's just that the timing couldn't be better, really. i'm meant for this sort of solitude, at least in the months of fall. everything around me poised to drift into slumber and i drift, too. gathering purpose. i feel pregnant, but dormant, like before. closer now. something is gestating, slowly, still. i didn't lose it. i'm giving it whatever it needs to grow.
i find ways to give of myself without giving myself away. i make my heart of service-- i remind myself to be kind, to try. even when i go home, the work doesn't stop. i perfect my bechamel, write lines with flour-encrusted hands, i find how far my focus can reach now that it's off the rest. i exist in the bevel of a knife, these kneading hands, inexact measurements and the scent of herbs always on my skin. in ink and perfume, silks and oils, in costumes. in the endless expanding inside me, thoughts and something more salient, something i could never put into words. i cease to be so affected and so, i affect.
and the effect, oh. it is immediate, powerful: everything opens up when i allow it to. fae songs wash back in and every windfall, every full moon takes over the spaces these aches have ceased to inhabit. i vibrate and the walls seem to tremble back at me, votives shimmy on the sills. intuition fills my belly and i dream vividly. it restores me like it used to. i feel that connection as strongly as ever-- particles rippling onward, ferrying us into one another, into everything.
and i want more. i won't be swayed, not this time. we're not long for this world, you know. actually, to put it more accurately: this world isn't long for us. it's dying beneath our feet and not a one of us can save it; we're too late for that. but it's not hopeless. i refuse to be hopeless ever again.
we can save each other, and we can save ourselves, and we can do as much as we can do. we don't have to go down with the sinking ship.
personally, i am through with sinking ships.