hey letter X

hey letter X
you’re my favorite
i relate with your
closed off heart center
but four very open ended arms

i too have closed in
and have for many years
but the more the heart shut
i kinda became vulnerable to
the dark underbelly of too much
awareness of things best left alone

some might say through this traveled winding tar soaked road that i’ve acquired more X’s than the Pussy Cat Theatre

i guess it’s the best to have open options not to get boxed in but at times in the midnight hourglass of time

the thought Xes my head that we both have four paths and our keys to the maps are rusted shut deep in our centers

Guest Post

want to share with my WP community a completely unexpected but beautiful and uplifting comment left on my last post by the awesome timsmind390256655.wordpress.com please check his site out tre cool

to answer one must know the question and have the courage to give an answer or not Mother is sending a message will we hear it will we heed it the birds still sing and even if they stop and we are no more She will start the chorus anew to be heard by new ears all is not yet lost we will learn to be better the birds song is not the only song that would be a shame to lose i hear your song too

thanks friend 🙂

She waits for us

no answer is also an answer

🦅 Hopi Proverb

to stare into the blank horizon

it lacks the pastel colors mother used to love

we the silent types proud and self assured cowards or lost fools

makes very little difference

to tighten my jaw as you purse your lips we know what we are thinking

we have no answer for what is happening to us

all we are not willing to admit that She is critical because of our silence

are we prepared for what comes this way as Her pulse tires and slows

the silence without bird songs is the vilest way to perish

the Alsephinas

my eyes deep into the looking glass they go
the crevice on my throat regulates my breath so slow
bones my genetic frame from the Danube it came
a girl with a mind of her own but her thoughts are filled with white carnations and light pink madness
stuffed into a blue and gold Chinese vase they go
ivory exquisite bones of beasts and mastodons fixed into the old red velvet settee
ivory silks drape my milky skin past my finger tips dipped in obsidian tears
the bench that holds my weight a fancy rosewood filigreed trophy
my deeply regretful eyes slide over to the compromised canopy bed made with hate and lies
there where on some deceitful night opened legged and mouth shut tight
i am supposed to worship you
more is endless breath is tight
nervous docile night
let’s walk into the light
we forever have been everything
we are daughters of the fight

*thank you Christine at braveandrecklessblog and HereticsLoversandMadmen for posting this piece first for the I Am More Than Breath and Bone prompt

no cocktails at Sharon’s barn

An Crann

By Nuala Ni Dhomhnaill

Do tháinig bean an leasa
le Black & Decker
do ghearr sí anuas mo chrann.
D’fhanas im óinseach ag féachaint uirthi
faid a bhearraigh sí na brainsí
ceann ar cheann.

Do tháinig bean an leasa
le Black & Decker
do ghearr sí anuas mo chrann.
D’fhanas im óinseach ag féachaint uirthi
faid a bhearraigh sí na brainsí
ceann ar cheann.

wls’ interpretation

do that thing beans and greens

leave the vacuum at the door

do get me anise more crunch please

Delfina’s husband i’m not on it

Agnes’ feather chains contribute

to Fina’s husband’s bad urethra

Le’faida ate at Barragan’s while suffering

terrible waves within the brain

Celine’s dress can at times be archetypal

do that thing you do with swing

and kiss me hard dear Lisa

put black peeper on the floor

did Gary travel from Uranus

more charisma please Ms. Shirlee

du’waana go to Sunland

i’m searching for some air and group

the disco club where walls are surreal

ok no brainer i understand

no cocktails at Sharon’s barn

hindsight

choice of youth

she tasted of memory

Selma ave where i fought a fight

bloody knuckles injured eye

it didn’t have to happen

but to drink my life away i made the choice in May

pain she’s tricky and eludes my reason at times

i’m left unto myself a sobbing child and so swinging back in madness

dignity falls down there is no count to tell

long gone are days of curbside medics looking for a score

safe behind a dignified door of comfort now with flagellating thoughts

if i could do it all again