Boiling to our love’s rhythm.
Blood beats as I wilt into skin;
Sticky sediment rises.
I kiss the silt into you,
Leaving salt in your lungs,
As I ebb and flow
In and out,
Back into my selfish heart.
Never to see the light of day: that project I began with much umph; that friend I promised myself I’d call every week; that search I vowed never to google again. The resolution to love that burned in its own heat.
My love is superficial, my sustenance cheap, my heart dark, my resolve weak.
They taught me to strive for perfection, to reach for the goal. “Never, ever give up!” and hope for the best. But now I see – it’s hopelessly fragmented and uneven. These pointless twists and endless turns.
Must we forever grovel for goodness, wholeness, trueness – only to return so scarce?
Dour! this world in which we grind – only to be shoveled back into sand.
Faded shards of glory that never was, never could be.
Nay, therein lies the rub:
Life is not stream-lined, neither highway nor runway .
Life is not a stream; Life is not a line.
Life didn’t go as you planned; Life is not a plan.
And that left you reeling,
Because your blueprints remained blue
As you climbed the floor
Across the ceiling.
So Mama, why do things fall apart?
Because honey, there is a crack,
A Crack in everything.
Where Sun seeps
And Wind blows
Raising us out of the dust
Into freckled Light.