Loss and the Art of Pruning
…
The connection went dead
something snapped in my head.
my body fell to the floor without me
my mind took a back seat while my heart took the reigns
reminding me to breathe again.
Just breathe again, sweet thing
just breathe back into being.
Bite my lip to bleeding while the silver lining fades to gray
I close my lips and lose the key, falling into eternity.
Until I find good intentions, I recede.
I’ll keep the fire to myself locked inside of me
I don’t want to burn someone else today
Instead, I’ll take it as a necessary infusion
let it heat me through this cold season
let it be salt to my seasoning, a lens for the deeper discerning.
don’t let it take me to a bitter place of indecision and derision,
I know you only dish out as much as each can take.
But what about the things taken from me?
This pain burns deep, melting the counterfeit away.
My loose ends are raw. I need something that will stay.
What once stood so firm. I can’t seem to perceive.
I sink to my knees and breathe through the rut.
Now what? I steam, I got this pit digging through my gut.
A pin in my heart until it filled it’s torn apart.
Admittedly, I was a conspirator at the very least.
Compromising time to chase down the beast in me
only to find its mirror image manifesting into being
through my dreams, is it a forewarning or another distraction?
I can’t run away. We are one eternally.
Please believe I’m trying desperately to be.
But the grove is on fire, and the battle’s taking the best of me.
I have no water to bring to the fight tonight.
So I’m looking to a dark sky, asking for a bit of light.
….
I’m screaming, where have you been on this mountain?
Roaring at the stars seeing ladders reaching to them.
Out of breath wrestling angels for a Kings reward
So am I the supplanted or a super seed drafted by the divine tree
Am I a scourge or the sword?
Am I Love, or a misspoken word?…
Where you go, I go. You are the only one who wholly chose me.
Thank you for your acceptance when I’d been stripped of my defenses
Merchants put a label on my head, placing me in the herd of walking dead
A Magdalene, a dame with a price, a tool, a device.
A closet of secret places. a mask of a million faces
Each facing different valleys only you went through with me.
Only you can attest to the ways each weapon wounded me.
Only you can explain how you healed me.
I look to you when stones are thrown, you alone can witness.
What will you do with me?
Who do you say that I am?
Who am I to you?
Take these hands and mold me.
Render me priceless in the end, a beautiful bride-to-be
Make me a reflection of the heaven I’ve gleaned through my dreams
My feet are bare. I’m ready, and waiting.