She Told Me So

“I’ll tell of this love that I know”

She said to me one day

“So please, if your will should allow

Listen and hear what I have to say”

She spoke of the soil cushioning her

The grass tickling her ears

The sunflower towering above her

Yellow soothing and easing her fears

She told me of seeds and their spurt

How spirit moves heavens on earth

And the force that grounds deep roots

Is the same as us knowing our worth

“Don’t forget you are no different”

Her whispers I still hear

“What makes the sunset so beautiful

Is you seeking you, my dear”

And with all this love that I know

From the listened word, not spoken

I conclude that I was, all along

Whole, not once ever broken.

Is There?

Is there not this way inside

I can switch on like a TV

Is there a weed and a buttercup

Hidden deeply within me?

Is there not a song I’ve lost

Down trodden roads forgotten

Is there notes that weave away

The rocks at the very bottom

Is there not a deafening flow

Where grease is washed from my hair

Is there a me that is more than bones

And I witness both sides of the pair

Is there all of this and more

Cycled a million times through

These colours,

This dance

This patterned dream

This life I do how I do.

If There Is Such A Way

Surrounded by a million tones, not woven by me

And I cannot decipher one from another

But there is a symphony of perfection to be drank all at once

And I am drunk

Drunk on the shades of spring

Yet still I chatter a thousand woes, haunting the evening waves

Am I a lunatic?

For it feels the moon draws all that dwells involuntary

Would I choose this crazy distinction?

I’d rather root beneath the worms and grow without this trouble

Where all I would want is to slowly dance to where I rest most comfortably

Or to climb the walls, not afraid of position

Is this my prison, believing I am not such a way?

That fate is my own doing

I often pray my thoughts to be swiftly caught by an eagles claw, then released far from land

Filtered by the salt and dispersed upon the seabed, food for the fishes

Ideals I’ve collected, are they to sculpt me? Like hands without permission roaming my naked skin

I quiver

And may I throw that to the birds also

So how,

If there is such a way

Am I to be?

Bury Me

Bury me where the brambles grow 

Sliced by unforgiving thorns

Let my tears crumble 

Like salt drops repelling the slugs

But let them come 

And leave silver trails across my breasts 

Whose majesty I’ve only imagined

Let me feel the break in my bones  

And scream as discs slip and roots wilt

So shallowly planted by frightened fingers 

I have known to ask of moulding discreetly, to feel common amongst the mass 

But my shedding mimics no other 

What comes up, too big to fit

And the dirt under my nails 

The dirt now choking my rusty cords

Feeds the hunger I feel, surpressing the swell

Full on words I’ve never spoken 

And they claw deeper into memories, ripened words sculpt outside of me 

Developed in your world  

But fallen in mine 

I am calling you, death of a stranger 

I’ve known what I’m allowed 

But forgot why I yearned for less 

For a naked me, stripped bare for saviours sake

I request that my core, sore and bruised, may rot

Welcomed back home

Please bury me where chunks can be bitten 

Where I can feel worthy enough to feed the worms 

And grow again, live again

Die, again