Where's It Safe to ↭ Collapse?
So easy, so hard, so full,
so empty.
These are the urgent needs of a mind gone mad trying to
find itself
in a location, a space, a place,
a time
for mourning that which is not
and that which cannot be
so that a seed can be
impregnated
of what is.
Shocking I find the face of that
which already is true.
I stretch up into the space of the being I already am
but haven’t inhabited.
I open rooms in my own house I’ve never seen before.
The soot sprites gladly vacate and welcome my light.
“No,” I cry.
“No,” I hate.
I find a cinder, a person-matchhead, a charred face that only says
“I hate him. I hate you.”
I recognize the cinder and
try to connect. “It seems like you’re angry.”
The cinder burns “I am anger.”
Anger is true so I do not wrestle.
“Yes, you are anger. Thank you.”
Another part of me says “we have no time for this.
No good will come of it.”
I only, I only, I only want peace
and yet I cannot chase it.
I only, I only, I only want love
and this can’t be caught in a snare
no matter how clever or lovely.
I only, I only, I only want you
and yet I must find me… and
a safe space to collapse.
No, the collapsing isn’t done,
only almost.