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A fingernail. Sliding aside the stitches,
And
Plunging into the flesh of a freshly healed
Wound.
Seeing you brings soaring to the surface
Blood.
Not yet fully congealed,
The pain pried open once again,
A wound thought buried for good,
Now rushes to the forefront
Of a broken memory.
Questions?
With no answers
Are the hardest to ask.
Why?
And
How?
Fists with a cry and a howl.
Fingertip stinking under,
Picking open the scab to let
The wound fester anew,
As if no healing had ever
Happened in the first place.

Fresh blood licked away.
The quivering at the thought,
that time does not, indeed,
heal all.

Seeing you,
A smile and a nod
is all that is mustered.
This wound,
You inflicted,
Will never heal.
I hear you whispering to me
            it's alright my child
     I know you want this to be over
                 I am right here
             I will always be right here
            don't give up you hear me?
   As long as you can still grasp a breath
                          you fight
      You breathe...so keep breathing.

          Your body...your soul
            may be fighting you
         It is older and has taken
     on many troubles and trauma
       but your spirit needs to stay
you have important work still to do here

        As they press on your throat
    Trying to check the last bit of air
      the Red tail Hawks Circle in the sky
                 we are here
               Do not be afraid

      You were born with white blood
        The ones who have dark blood
             are angry that it is
      still running through their veins
                are afraid of you
             Your light is so bright
           they fear getting burned

       Time may not be on your side
But you will know when the time is right
       you are the silvertip grizzly bear
   who smells from many miles away
who will rip flesh with your mighty    
            claws in seeming anger

                           His smell
seven times stronger than the Bloodhound
           your nose is a time traveler
      while they see someone's name
                            carved in
         a heart in the tree they will know
          this person loves someone else
            
       you know who made the carving
      what was on the soles of their feet
        what direction they walked in
   And to stay away if they are dangerous

        little Portia...jumping spider
        you can see in four dimensions
      Opening Our Eyes to history
as ancient Greek statues were painted
                        not white
         your evolutionary camouflage
     is useless against the death machine
          the black Emperor Scorpion
which to you glows in a bright blue green
      
you are also like the monarch butterfly
      
          waking from sleep cocooned
            living only a few months
      migration that spans Generations
born knowing exactly how to get to their  
           greatest grandfathers home
              who left six months ago
                not told by your Mother

You are the beautiful white bleeding heart
     that I planted outside your door
    you didn't know where it came from
  It will provide you ease from your pain    
           and calm  your nerves
      you must extract this from the root

         It all feels very important
             To speak the truth
             to get it all down
     It feels like it might be too late
                but it is not
   just remember to keep breathing
       As long as you have a breath
    as long as you can grasp a breath
                 you breathe
                 keep fighting
                     I am here
                 I am with you
           I will always be here.

Cherie Nolan© 2016
I don't know where all this is coming from part of my Native American studies things I am observing every day and trying to share when I can when I am able. Thank you for caring and reading I feel this is important for some reason so I guess I'll just keep writing and trying to read and absorb as much as I can of or creators work. The bleeding heart really is outside my door.... it might sound strange but I really feel that my native ancestors are speaking. :)
A for apple B for ball
You're cute baby beautifully small
C for cat D for doll
You baby is the sweetest of all
E for egg F for fish
Baby you're my fulfilled wish
G for goose H for hen
I look at you baby forget all pain
I for ink J for jar
You're baby my brightest star
K for kite L for leaf
Baby you're my strongest belief
M for milk N for nose
You're baby more fragrant than rose
O for owl P for pea
Baby your smile makes me happy
Q for queen R for rain
You're baby my richest gain
S for sun T for toy
Baby you're precious be girl or boy
U for umbrella V for van
Loving you baby is all I can
W for wool X for xylophone
With you baby I feel never alone
Y for yak Z for zoo
Rule my heart baby only you
A childish poem, for Lady RF, prompted by my comment on her poem Tree House.
Something's telling me
( a hint of mystery)
that we will get along
okay.

but there's larceny
someone's out to get me
and that's a mystery as
to who.

Let's say
we play that game
name a name
and what it means
or a place, describe the
scenes we see

something's telling me
we'll get along okay

it's just a play we're acting in
the stage is dim to start and then
the lights come on

yes

we'll get along okay
learn the lines
we need
to say,

roles are who we are and
what we do,
each role that brings me near to you
each line that reads to me
the mystery
is telling me
we'll get along
okay.
 Jun 2016 strawberry fields
TT
Room
 Jun 2016 strawberry fields
TT
My nails are painted as black as the midnight sky,
My hair, cut short---bleached
I sit comfortably on my hardened mattress
The words on the page begin to look the same
Red, red, red
The blood drips slowly from my fingertips.

I would like to say that I feel lonely in this place,
That I feel misery has finally found it's company
Yet I find that even alone,
I am suffocating
These walls are slowly closing in on me,
And I can't find a reason to stop them.
Cold,
Sitting at the table,
Drinking coffee bitters,
To warm my Soul.

Looking out the window,
Through blinds of tall pine trees,

Unable to see your wondering Soul,
Unable to see your blooming heart,
Unable to touch a dream, carried by a warm breeze Far from the East.

A flickering candle,

The scent of  cherry blossoms,
Piercing the darkness,

A golden flame rises,

Golden skies,
Whites, pinks, and blues,
Floating high above the pines,

Embracing me with warmth,
Warm memories of loving you,

Painting a waking dream at sunrise,
Remembering you.



Copyright © 2016 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
Painter of the wind- Line of sight
https://youtu.be/K98WSkl4rYc
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