Show me where it hurts.
Tell me your aches and pains
Lead me to where the shame pools up
in secret corners and soft folds of your body
To where the bitterness stagnates in your vessel
I want to know where you’re raw.
To rest my warm hands where you throb
Let your aching body soften in my arms
Sink deep into the balm of my embrace
Exhale the breath that you’ve been gripping for so long and
I’ll press my skin upon your skin
and caress your wounds so gently that
your timid joy may be coaxed to the surface once again.
I will not tell your body what to do
I will bear witness
Will trace the topography of your pain with reverence
Will place my kisses so softly that
even just for this moment
occupying your body feels
Even, just for this moment, you may rest easy.
For this moment, your vessel is no longer a burden.
How do I become gentle.
with passion and vigor?
How will the light flash off my frame when I am unrelenting and ferocious.
Is this the clearing beyond a forest I must journey through,
Or a forest I must sink my roots into?
Is it the distinct way the sunlight gleams through the treetops onto me and the dirt?
Or is it the way my body remembers the canopy-shaped shadows when I am once again in the full heat of day. The pattern of warm illumination my skin remembers when I am once again in the full cool of night.
I want to scream and howl and sweat as I tear away at the dirt.
Ripping it away from its bed and turning it over within itself. Feeling the burn of effort and the salty smell of earth.
All of this making room for the first breaths of a flower.
I kneel at your throne of
leather and bone
Your grasshopper wings
make prisms on the walls
Fingers uncurl, leaves and
dirt in their creases
Your breath makes the sound
of the Earth when it’s silent
Why is your hair always damp?
The throne is so heavy though
it carries your weight.
The wind seems to pick at your scabs
I wish you could see how beautiful you look
in the rain.