Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Oct 2015 Rhianecdote
Wednesday
My body has not once been a temple.

I remember years ago,
sitting poolside with my grandmother,
her spidery, veined hands touching my knee:

"Your body is a grand temple,
only those who are holy are worth admittance."

And her stern sincerity made me laugh.

My body is a wet, lush jungle.
My body has been trampled through and lived in.

Destroyed, burned,
yet always continues to rebirth itself from the rubble and debris.

Am I any less for this?

My body is a mystery,
a slow wafer on the tip of a school boy's tongue.
A dark, cool place to rest your weary head.
A place to let your feet press into the rich soil
and feel like maybe you can call this home.

I think one time,
a man with dark hair and light eyes thought he could
reduce me to mere trees and rain,
not knowing the jungle is not a safe place.

Unlike those with temples for bodies,
my heart lives deep in a hidden cave guarded with
sharp memories that feel like claws.

My memories have teeth,
and my heart has a brain.
Wearing a crown of fire and a robe of blood Hatred sits upon his throne of thorns and thinks on ******* Love.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum
..
Rumi once said, “Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.
The mind is a cruel place
It stores memories
Riddled with pain
Loss
Sorrow
And every once in awhile it hits you with bliss
Just to keep you going
One more day
One more hour
Don’t give up just yet
Just when you thought the ride was over
There you are upside down
Holding onto yourself
Trying to save you from you
This monster you’ve created and called an angel
Smile
They’re watching
Don’t slip up
They’ll figure you out
Pretty faces fade
What will you do then?
Will you still love you?
Silly girl
Haven’t you been smacked down enough?
Bruises fade
****** memories live on forever
In the dark corners of that dark twisted beautiful mind
Try to run
I dare you
But we all know how this ends
You lose
You always do
Stupid girl, superficial love doesn’t last
Selling your soul for a couple of shots
But oh how wonderful it is to forget
And that is where your story begins
Next page