storm break.

how many times has this heart thought the apocalypse had fallen?

be it those twelve-year-old days of burned pictures & invisibility times, or the death of boulder family & deserter accusations, the wretched end never shut as this poor heart feared. the clouds blackened and crowded & the lightening roared & the thunderstruck & this heart got drenched with the rain's fire no doubt.

but all those feigned ends just appeared to make way for beginnings, the beginning just had to be born after storm.

those these days the panic stabs deep & breath runs short & lighter you seems dead, this neither has proved to be apocalypse. those panic daggers are losing their edge & air comes easier & brighter you is whispering that it's hiatus may someday break.

now the only thing left to do is wait til the storm breaks.

this heart may be scarred, but as it's said before, they're worn well.

they speak of her battles, both lost & won. they speak of her wisdom & days lived soft & hard. they say that even those wounds that were once oozing & festered, they too healed.

they say that this scar will be deepest, but it will mean freedom when its day to be forgotten reigns.

til then, this heart will wheel forward. til then, this heart will grace while it aches, even on the days it stops beating. this heart will be well & it's scars will be beauty. or at least she has to believe that.

lost & found

exhile times usually whisper of new treasure on the other side. remember the last world & how it crumbled & how you grew another? with fresh steps & new mind it bloomed brighter than any before. that new world meant losing as finding & changing as beginning & and that exhile times may just be great aim.

this new world now growing is this date's strangest, even after that mountain year blurred. but maybe that odd soil means growing its loudest & strongest. as those german words fall & this love bursts deep & that durango darkness withers, you know you've found magic. the hennef forest & the white seed float & the blessed inundacion de carino gives your wounds hope of less scar.

but still your chest finds its times when hope's dead & love's far & those hatred faces follow close. you still wake up wishing those were days dreamed & the night a dream mared & that the beat shadowing your bliss will be polite & take its leave & disappear. but the morning rises here as it would in colorado, the sun follows its spin, the people their plans, and night comes & the truth remains: your fate stays & his in your hands & the ache of his hex running deep in all veins.

those times when hope dies & love is gone & their hate runs your neck, that's when she's lost. that's when head plunges & truth hides & she stands the villian & he the distressed. that's when she stumbles & can't remember her right nor his wrong & those blame hints seem truth. but then the tale turns & she misses the light he stole & she grieves for other lights he's smothered & she sees his puppet stringed hands. then...well, then she just wishes she wasn't charged the key to his days barred or free. she wishes she could run and leave another to to set his story dark.

but she can sometimes remember exhile's actually meant to be sweet. sometimes she can remember that she's blooming. somtimes she can remember that she still is magic admist his burns left. she's still me & i'm still her & she's faced the war before & she came out smiling. she might get lost sometimes, but in the end, she'll be found.

hands

times that weigh show us which fingers will catch us & which would rather let us fall.

when mine reached & they found nothing but cold, they fell by my side sad & heavy. they remembered the love they'd usually met, but they had to face that sometimes love changes & it doesn't run deep. maybe that's why they seem to be missing the heat that summer's beginning.

but home never fails to brim with hands that catch. after so many backhanded receivings, my fingers are shocked by the warmth they're finding & the hands they're holding & maybe most importantly the hands holding them. home's where we can break, & my fingers have mashed & clawed with the ebbs & flows.  they too have suffered deeply.

despite the fingers i lost these last earth turns, i know they're ones to be forgotten. when my throat found its stand & it led both hands & feet to desert, they knew they were fingers flawed despite the memories they'd shared. as grief dies & wholeness grows, my ten know which ones will be strong when they fall weak. my ten know which will love them regardless of any fate that befalls them.

& it should be said that there are those hands in that old mountain home that my fingers will always remember. the few pairs that didn't forget them & loved them amidst the storm. they're thankful that they remain, while the others were shed.  & for those from a far, somehow they held me & my hands together best. they reminded us eleven that we are strong & that the burning hurts but they loved me more for it.

though the darkness ran deep, light's beginning its win. and my hands praise all those that shared their light when mine was lost.

poison

i know there are a lot of things that make you crazy, but i think this is the biggest dose of madness to date.

the one i talked about before, the one with the darkness mask, he was the initial bite. he'd hoped that i'd suffer the symptoms in silence so that his spell could go unnoticed, but instead my whispers of weeping came to a shout.

you always expect those get well cards and bedside talks of things you'll do when the pain subsides. you always hope that those that love you in the light will love you when you get lost in the dark. it's maddening deeper when they spill their own poison into your already toxic days.

i remember deciding the time before to silence my wounds & cover their scars; i knew that truth makes people hide & when you don't let them ignore your pain that they start to show fang and claw. but, there is still that silly hope that there will be those who want to tend your aches & banish you ails. that hope that those who loved you when it was easy won't shy when it gets to be hotter.

this time i chose to suck the poison out of my wounds rather than let it run its course & wreak havoc on my soul. rather than let him continue his bites & forget those he'd blackened, this time i chose to mark the one who stilled my veins & shattered my old smiles & tarnished my me.

but this time, i find my side more empty than full, more hated than loved. they keep saying i've won with all i've lost, but i still am haggard with grief. they may not have loved me but i them & those turned backs & black words have meant more blood of mine spilled. i may have found truth of who would remain when the fire burned strongest, but still i am broken by loss. though the family was a sham, it was a sham i'd clung to & dreamed of & wanted.

though the poison dissipates, so too do those i'd counted as armor and light. though i know i must shirk those too that have thus far shirked me, it still makes tears & ones that ache.

who knew that the world would prefer silence just so things could remain the same. who knew that the world would prefer the darkness mask to live & those broken by him to die. who knew that the world is really as dark as i'd always heard.

fire

it's funny how ashes & burning make trees stand taller.

you know how when you feel the lick of the flames & they swallow your heart & digest your hope & they shit on your dreams?

that's just the fire burning away the bits of you that need to die. it hurts because you're losing layers & it's still yours but it's the you that needs to be lost.

strange how that works. how we have to burn and crumble & ash to be reborn. if only the birthing process could be softer.

it's funny too how much we shine after we face the flames & embrace the ash & we find that we are better afterall. i guess that's why we should listen to the words that say to keep eyes high & heart light.

that reminds me of the story of la brujita, one that had great heart & tried to share it well. she loved to bewitch those into her magic so they could forget their darkness.

but she'd constantly be rocked by those she'd magicked & it took so long to learn how to care for a heart so great. they tore at her & broke her & stole & raped her. but the fire just had to burn hot enough so that she'd  own her dark magic & destroy the evil ones.

a great heart is something to be well guarded, not something to be revealed to those broken and scary. though the times that they broke her she threatened to die in the break, she knew that she had magic to share with the light ones that wouldn't toss her into the hearth to perish.

the one who taught scarred himself with pura vida and son-loving tattoos; they were a part of his darkness mask. he told her of dreaming and how he needed a savior and she wanted to share her light and banish his burdens.

they shared their stories & how the flame had touched them both and la brujita thought she'd come to a point where her magic was working & she'd be free to let him fly. but then his mask unfolded & he branded her with his darkness & she was left with a limp and a heart weeping.

he was her greatest lesson to date; he unvealed the secret we hide from our young...that magic can be squashed & that dark hates light & he didn't want to let it live. he armed himself with his might & used his own black magic & worked a spell that left la brujita broken. he tore apart her family & stole what life he could & left la brujita for dead.

little did he know that she'd been burned harder before, & when he asked to see her eyes after he'd blackened her magic, & she looked up and said, 'you're lucky i'm stronger now,' he should have known she meant it. he didn't know that she had a secret box where she kept her dark magic, one she'd strayed from for fear she couldn't wear black well. little did he know that she'd grown into la bruja, & she was ready to burn the fire back.

though fire vs fire still leaves her burned too, at least her ash will be mixed with some she made herself. now she can see her own magic, black and white, & know that she can be soft & hard. but now she's been shown that darkness threatens her light & she must guard hers well. there's a reason why there exist both people and places were the sun itself refuses to shine.

so in fire, she burns, but she will emerge ever greater than the previous flames allowed. & la bruja could imagine no greater victory.