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Softly Spoken Mar 2017
I walk this Kiez
A perfect balance of anger and grace
I must be on my toes
At every moment
Scanning each face
Adjusting response in lieu of what's said
To hold space with intent
Not wanting to expect the worse
Encounters of violence
But I prime my senses
Prepare my reflexes
To respond at a split
So at this knifes edge
My nerves sit
Thus I Take the city at my pace
Smile and walk these streets
Always chin up
Look the world in the eye
And from this flow
Square my shoulders
Preside
In this moment. I stand
Exist and go forth
Question not where I came from
But still exhort from my feet
A slow pace
One after another
I aim myself home
Throw the compass asunder
As I stalk and i prowl
My body projecting a fierce front
That I pray will get me to my door
Untouched
Unnoticed
And unharmed
Slide the key in the lock
Feel resistance as tumblers align
And allow me entry
Finally
To my home
My safe space
The weight of holding a balance between anger
And grace falls away
I know... I know
It's disjointed as ****
But somehow nicely sums up my stream of consciousness as I stagger home
Softly Spoken Mar 2017
My daughter sleeps to the sound of the ocean
softly, gently rocked
forth and afar into dreams and nightmares
a soft static blanket
the assonance of water

My daughter sleeps
to the sound of an ocean that she has never heard
a loop of imagined waves that have
never wet her feet
she has never run screaming and laughing
from the imagined horrors of seaweed, foam
Tangaroa’s arms enfolding her

As my daughter sleeps, I cry
as salty as the swells she’s never seen
in this landlocked room
slowly falling from my cheek
to land on hers
a soft saline baptism

As my daughter sleeps, my thoughts fly
wondering how I can fill her
with the awe that something as elemental
something as capricious
something as beautiful
can exist in this tattered world

but still, my daughter sleeps
I grew up on and in the Pacific. It's wild and elemental, and I miss it dreadfully.. now my daughter sleeps to a loop of the sound of the ocean and it struck me as ironic that she dreams to something she has experienced.
Softly Spoken Mar 2017
To the joy
We dance, we jest and joust
The complex interplay of two
Souls recognising selfness
Seeing the edges fit

To the sorrow
This memory fades, surely, swiftly
A conversation half remembered
The realisation that ..
I can't recall your voice

To the sweetness
A softly remembered moment
The curve of a finger
Tracing line across memory

To the senses
That I can't feel those arms
Lightly, a tear traces a path
I feel it slide down my cheek
Then unseen weight grips

To the Anger
Against moments expectation unmet
When the collision occurs
And unwanted words come forth
The rage unchecked

To the self
The clash of the ego and id
tripartite vying for casual dominion
Eros and Thanatos war
Action dictated by thought

To the internal
The experience of
A lucid world of love
of longing, of joy
And it's counterpart; sadness

As I remember that I will
Never see you again
We will never speak
You will not know
How much you are missed

To friendship
To the joy of finding each other
To the gift of you, selflessly given
To the kindness
To both sides of a being


To the present
To Finding ways to exist Sans those who've faded
Always to persevere
The interlocking of past and now
Always seeing and remembering the essence of their being
Just breathe

To the heart
No words exist for this journey
From innocence to sorrow
And back
But when led with..


Nothing is insurmountable
Written after the death of my Friend Simon, a supreme badass who, like all supreme badasses, found the normal unexciting.
  Mar 2017 Softly Spoken
Torin
Tooth of a dog
Sign of the ram
Forced to walk as I am
Broken
History

Cobblestone

No longer bleeding into gardens
Overflowing Rhododendron
I wish I were
Where the flowers bloom

Eye of the goat
Horn of the bull
Made to walk as I've become
Damaged
Future

Concrete

Finding parking lots and empty streets
Where I can bleed
I wish I were
Where the flowers bloom
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