eightys_baby1984 |
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I Am by Skyfyre I am ... A woman With a full heart, hidden
Somewhere in an empty room ... With eyes not quite of autumn's
gold, and yet Neither all of summer's green; I wonder ... If love
is a tale made for children -- A granting of sweet dreams in their
innocence -- A honey-coating to help their throats Choke down the
bitter draught ... I hear ... A voice that whispers warnings,
half-formed, Bodiless as hope, until I swear I cannot draw Another
breath unless this spectre be unmasked, His lies mangled
‘neath my righteous tread; I see ... A woman,
proud, uncompromising, Diaphanous as air -- less, even, than the
tears That fall in desolation about her weary feet, Salt poison
pooled upon the withered ground ... I want ... A measure of
quietude, a certain silence, The echo of alone which heals me of
dreaming, The nothing that stills the wanting, The numb, the cold
that laughs at pain; I am A woman, hidden ... I pretend ... That I
can live forever -- that Time Has no puissance but that which I
afford Him -- And so, I can wait, I can be happy tomorrow, Sleep is
for the dead; but its ghosts haunt my waking ... I feel ... Too
much -- too deeply to be directionless, Too real for imagining, and
yet the familiar eyes Hold nothing of recognition -- only my
reflection -- A meeting of shadows in sunlit glass; I touch ... The
downy wings of hope, in wonder, In reverence, in need, in hunger;
Alas, it burns my fingers as a flame, A sacrilege, self-defined ...
I worry ... That I am alone; that in my longing I have forsaken all
-- but oh, what reward, What smile divine should light the path to
freedom -- And how can I but heed the siren's call? I cry ... For
having too much, for fear of bursting, And then, when by the
pouring of my soul I lie, a vessel emptied, I cry again For what
was had, and lost; I am A woman, empty ... I understand That life
is what you make it, That sometimes, the coat of many colors That
marks your triumphs brightly, blends only To loneliest of grey ...
I say That we are made by life, shaped, Broken, perhaps -- unmade
and voided -- But always, the core of us remains, waiting With only
faith, with trust, to be reborn; I dream Of bluest waters, reaching
With unnatural hands toward the faded sky, Of dolphins that wander
in seas without limits, Carrying me water-breathing past corals and
clouds ... I try ... To lead by example, knowing That merely the
telling holds no power; A gift of giving is merely a day, while A
gift of knowing spans forever; I hope ... That my darkness holds
you gently, That pain is halved by sharing, that feeling Wields
nothing past the words it summons, Except that it touch you with
only healing ... I am A woman, only.
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