Have me in the blue and the sun.
Have me on the open sea and the mountains.

When I go into the grass of the sea floor, I will go alone.
This is where I came from--the chlorine and the salt are
     blood and bones.
It is here the nostrils rush the air to the lungs. It is
     here oxygen clamors to be let in.
And here in the root grass of the sea floor I will go alone.

Love goes far. Here love ends.
Have me in the blue and the sun.

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Yesterday I was ready to
tell you, all about what I'd done
for you to see me
in the light of day

the real me, not
the one I paint of myself.
Today, the paints cover
the very cove my body is

its sheltered hollow
recesses, each nook
hiding the darkest parts
hiding who I truly am.

If the sea was to part, no
if you could part the sea for me
I could know to trust
you, but here I am

alone, lost in thought, scared
to even dare unfold my body.
That is the truth now
not tomorrows, not

yesterdays. Can I ask you
to come find me. I
know I'm remote. There's
a lighthouse by the shore.

You will see me there.
The truth is hard to bear
even for me, & I want
no stone unturned.                 © Sia Jane