9:20 p.m. - 03/10/03
black-winged roses.
I forgot I finished this. I went to work on it. I forgot the draft was done. I'm not in revising mode. I'm in ready to burst with the need for expression mode. Ok, I'll live with making something new.
~
I'm weak in places
I've spent years exercising
worn by the strain of days
spent sympathizing,
your struggles in my muscles
ache. I've been to hell
I'm back again and now I find
it's my memory that I
can't take. it's your experience
reminding me, blinding me
to my own progress -
my own footsteps matter little
when faced with your landslide.
it's your reality I can't abide.
you confide in me, I suddenly
collapse. bearing witness
to myths I�d rather not recall
are facts. there is no relaxation
in the rhythm of our relationship
no rests to separate the bars
that cage us in. you win
or rather, your illness overrides
I, of all people, should recognize
it isn�t you. I, with my oh-so
similar history, should realize
that much is true.
do you? understand the enemy?
appreciate the force you�ve yet to face?
do you acknowledge the extremity
of opposition, replacing your identity,
leaving you without yourself,
attacking in bad faith
at your essential health?
do you have the tears necessary
to take in- that even if you
ally yourself with the sickness
you'll never win?
I seek solutions desperately
try to track the answer that
awarded me my own security,
salvation, strength. I
analyze my archived experience,
attempt to find the key that
opens one whole hallway
of its doors.
certainly, more than one answer
fits inside the lock, and we
could have different destinies
you and I. these tests could have
more than one right answer, I�m aware.
I anticipate you as you�ll be
with essence bared. deepest beauty
right within our reach. I�m aware
of all the lessons you have yet
to teach. to learn. I burn,
a lantern in the darkness,
a failed attempt at light
that only blinds. I brighten
violently to protect myself,
as your experience reminds
me of my own. I�m not
so far from it myself.
and it�s no comfort to me
that you�re not alone.
I�m full with faith for you
(still left without breath)
I trust your ability to
fight this battle to the death
of the disorder, of your illness
of your pain. I trust your strength
to sustain you through the fray.
(but down another road, I came
across a different course.
and everything I want to tell you
is useless from an outside source.
I�d hand over every key
on the warm steel chain that
liberated me. if only
I knew for certain that they�d serve.)
but all that is inside you is enough.
all the magic that you need, you own.
so hold my hand, although
you�ll never need it
reach into yourself and find your home.
I�m finding mine. and part of that
means learning to let you guide
yourself. let you find your own path
through the tough terrain which we
must navigate. I still need your fate
to be one in which I�m allowed to touch
you as I do. please.
find and fortify yourself,
so I can be introduced...
this is the battle we used to call healing.
�
�
