Friday, 23rd July 2021

I'm getting in my own way again...

Call out to me so my footsteps halter

Burnish my skin of these lasting marks

Made by tears of my own making

With every footstep that I falter

In fog formed by clouds I mistook in my own ecstacy

Strained and wanting

I simmer below the surface,

a thousand pieces of light

stretched thin and glaring

piece together my skin,

thoughts rumbling through

troubled waters, fine lines

and wasted moments,

preoccupied with nothing

i wish i was the birth of a newborn or an infant's first word,

so i could make you beam like a child's proud mother.

i wish i was the first day of school, or a girl's 16th birthday,

or her high school graduation and the after party.

i wish i was your first kiss, or the first time you liked a girl and thought about marriage. 

i wish i was the first heartbreak or the love you'll die with,

i wish i was special, or something like it. 

- i wish i was special

Waking up to a thousand songs

each hour, they chime and sing,

I knew they would never sing again 

if there was no new day to bring

.

They mark the time with beak and wing

its slow passing now my desire;

forever bound to their floating song, 

forever bound to their charming fire

This is in no way a fairy transaction, I promise.

My Links:

Head over to my main blog for more writing Find my written tarot readings and poetry prints on Etsy You can find my other links on my main blog.

My written Tarot Readings are written in the style of a letter, catered to you and your personal questions. I do three different tarot spreads and you can ask any question you want, whether it is related to relationships, work, family, home, or what the year is going to look like for you. I use my cards to help me interpret your dreams, so give me your dreams and I'll give you an understanding.

Isolation

We can cross over and connect

find peace in small things

travel beyond even our simplest dreams - 

I’ll see you in a moment, sitting by the sea 

lost in this forgotten memory

When the people you are closest to, who may even know you more than you know yourself, call you fearless and strong when you start doubting yourself, it makes you realise that there is a whole part of yourself that only others see and believe in. And maybe you could start believing in that too.

Much of what happens to us in life is nameless because our vocabulary is too poor. Most stories get told out loud because the storyteller hopes that the telling of the story can transform a nameless event into a familiar or intimate one. We tend to associate intimacy with closeness and closeness with a certain sum of shared experiences. Yet in reality total strangers, who will never say a single word to each other, can share an intimacy — an intimacy contained in the exchange of a glance, a nod of the head, a smile, a shrug of a shoulder. A closeness that lasts for minutes or for the duration of a song that is being listened to together. An agreement about life. An agreement without clauses. A conclusion spontaneously shared between the untold stories gathered around the song.

John Berger, "Some Notes on Song (for Yasmine Hamdan)"

I am hollow in this coursing wind, a brightened shell and song within.

I am raging in this ocean sky, the greying light a burning sign.

I am buried in my absent mind, wrapped and beating this blurry sound.