I have loved you for a thousand years
And failed you a thousand more
I get lost in the taste you leave in my mouth
Of blood and salt
And they were both my own
Let us go home
So we can be alone
To hide myself under your touch

I dreamed I
Saw fields of straw
Hallucinated the waves
Coming to me

I begged on
That little
Self inside me
To prove

His realness
And he said
I just am
And I

Answered
But the field was
Real to me all
Waving

Standing
Applauding
A festivity
Of me

And you are who
A homonculus
A being
Inside me
Have you

I questioned him
Myself me
My being
Mine ID

Have you
Little my
Senses of self
Monitor

My matriarchal
Patrician
Overseer
Have you

One too?
A little you
Inside you talk
To question

Go to in stress
For advice
And if so
Does he too?

On and and and and

Ononon
We went
Late


Into the night into day
I went

Back
To
The
Field

At times in existence
What you feel cannot be described
The words are there ready to erupt
The circuitry laid inside
Is beyond description
You're allowed your own wants
You'll never know if they're wrong
You paint it, you say it, angry at night
You sing it til it curdles into bloodied screams
The reality is your beauty
Is so kind that it gets the knife
The tip drips with black instead of white
The pen is, it turns out, poisoned
With toxicity to life
You live hope. You live faith.
You are strength.
Yet your desire is forever ensnared
Caught in a cry

COME WITH ME

It is my lonely journey, on a trail that is dark
I leave no fingerprints, I promise to leave no mark
It is my prayers unheard, that are howls in the air
No longer looking for a love, nor for a someone who would care
A dark soul I am, on a travel to the pits of hell
There are no buyers at all, for the trinkets that I sell
Cold is in my heart, and in my veins is ice
I took to wind and the waters, and destroyed all that was nice

(M. N. R.)
3 APRIL 2018

I wanted nothing to do
with the Light.
It stung.
It permeated.
It was far too invasive.
I fell in love with the midnight
of my Soul.
I self-medicated
with the familiar pain.
The Light was far too Holy,
for someone as lowly as me.
But, she was tender.
Her voice was inviting.
So, reluctantly,
I allowed her in.
And I welcomed her
to this dark void
I’ve made Home.

Even as dying, I have no time
For bitterness.

Life was too short,
Even before.

Each step holds gratitude for the sound
Of snow beneath it.

For
Now

I carry my passenger
Unburdened.

Say no to nothing. Not
Even the cancer.

Even tomorrow's mother's tears,
Father's clenched fists upon casket;

Flowers; loss. Inevitability.
Death grows inside me.

The opposite of a
Pregnancy.

I listened to my inner voice....
When I was filled with fear, when I learned at a young age that real monsters do exist and they are not like the ones in any story book I ever read. The monsters stole away any normal childhood that I could of or should of had.  Pain muted my words from flowing and poisoned my thoughts into growing... this is why I trusted no one.  
At the time I had no other choice... when I was
really the only friend I could totally depend on and count on
I listened to my inner voice...


I listened to my heart...
When all I could hear was a pounding in my ears, when all around me was like a crazy chaotic whirlwind screeching like a barred owl that would then break apart into tiny pieces and sink into a cold abyss forgotten by the sea.  I couldn’t forget the grief as it was real and still inside me. There was a brokenness about me my
heart was fragile and it balanced on the tip of my own desperation
but still I listened to my heart...
          
I listened to the words...
Slowly but surely I was able to come out from that darkened sea and was finally able to try and heal me. Words became my saving grace. I learned to not have muted lips and could give myself a fighting chance. I was able to tear down some of those protective walls to try again to live only in this moment without the armor and the hesitation. Writing became my new love... together we became an inseparable piece of one existence...
I felt so much better after I listened to the words ....

When the yellow day coppers to dusk
I paint my weary eyes dreams.

They nudely wade the crabhole muds
for marks of the great marksman
climb up the chunks going into tides
tiptoe through the needle roots
sniff a wind that smells of stripes
thrilled
death if comes
would be a momentary stir
a dangling cloth
resting on the trail of blood, marking,
someone ventured.

the weight of seven
hummingbirds -- 21 grams --
is what leaves the body
after death

on that hummingbird breath
the soul leaves
a wispering whisper
of seven tiny, winged cavatinas

being sung back
and singing themselves
forward
into the chorus

to enter again
a melody -- in
the Eye Of God

shimmering
iridescent
wings beating
the rhythm of Love



c. 2018 Roberta Compton Rainwater