Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Beckon the Broken
It's easy to look back and see the moment clear: Your schoolyard
uncertainty, clumsy mouth and hands, the depth of drowning in your
eyes I missed (dismissed?), mislabeled as lovable, mendable, lost.
Any wild thing would by instinct have abandoned, shunned or
devoured you. Like that. Like nothing. Not for nothing. But not this
cracked-open, seeking girl. Never we humans with our stupid smarts.
We beckon the broken--thinking we can out think our guts.
Posted by SP at 9:01 PM
Monday, April 5, 2010
Avoiding the Mirror
For weeks you've somehow managed it, no small miracle
of maneuvering in a culture fixed on form, obsessed by polish,
fixated on each furrowed mark of wit and wonder and weather.
Now spring and sun collude each time you pass a pane. You're
drawn like string, like bees, like being called--to face your face. To
see if you're still there. A sort-of-you confronts you in the glare.
Accept the dare.
Posted by SP at 8:43 PM
Thursday, April 1, 2010
We forget our first relationships to limbs: Our own and those
of the broad-armed trees we climb. Our earliest climbing is just to
learn we can; and then, to reach for fruit, for freedom--to ascend.
Our earliest running is just to learn we can; soon comes flat-out
flying--the urgency, the need that springs from being newly, nearly
free. We forget our first relationships to limbs.
Our earliest falling is just to learn we can.
Posted by SP at 3:47 AM