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Chris Saitta Dec 2021
If I could love, I would take the best of marble and dove,
And craft her eyes like inlaid tombs in stone skyward flight.
Just so, the Egyptian khamsin wind, by way of Rhodes,
Alights with evenness on the trullo stone of Alberobello.
Just so, the weighing of the heart lies between marble and dove.
The weighing of the heart was part of the final judgement in the Egyptian journey to the afterlife where one’s deeds were weighed against the feather of the goddess Maat to determine if life had been honorable.
annh Oct 2021
Acceptance that in this life
Blood and sinew define me
And yet my mind can fly,
Doesn’t come easily.

To find the pivot point,
The sweet spot where form and fancy
Co-exist in perfect balance,
Eludes me most of the time.

To lose myself in the dreck of daily life dulls my spirit;
To reject the limitations of my reality
Leaves me stranded in the in between spaces
Where discontent, longing and self-doubt flourish.

Engaging in this power struggle
Between my earth and my ether
Leads me to gainsay one half of my whole,
Either or, vice versa, within or without.

To find a ***** in my own armour,
To prise open the gap,
To embrace the paradox which is this person named “I”,
And walk the tightrope with panache...aha!

‘The picture of a being is always a schema, a simplified and crude depiction of what is never entirely representable and exhaustible; such a being seeks to be understood in its potentiality and respected as something infinite, even if boundaries (common forms of existence) have been drawn like fate around it, borders beyond which it can not escape and which its physiognomy constantly remembers.’
- Helmuth Plessner, Grenzen der Gemeinschaft
Nicole Oct 2021
Feet poised and legs steady
I can feel the fibers of a tightrope beneath.
I can hear water,
As waves of anxiety splash against jagged walls,
Echoing up from under me.
Sometimes I wonder if the water is rising
But thoughts like that will **** my focus.

It happens sometimes,
Where my knees shift and
Buckle beneath me,
Rope burn ripping across my bare skin,
My hands searing as I grasp this thin lifeline.

By the power of luck and determination
I raise and right myself again.
My muscles are tingling and I beg them to still.

I know this doesn't feel like safety
But
At least I'm out of the depths.
The depths of erratic emotions.
The depths of pain.
This sea of fear flows ruthlessly.

She will consume me with no hesitation
Inhaling me deeply
Where, within her,
I am blind and
The only sounds are
Raging train cars,
Eradicating all else.

Up here I am not safe
But I know I am stable
So long as I am focused,
Deliberate in my movements,
and
Mindful of my thoughts.

Above,
The sky is unapologetically blue,
Reflecting back a childlike innocence
That lives somewhere inside that sea.
The air is gentle and calm,
Holding space for peace within my lungs.

One day I will learn to float
Because
Some days I can hover,
Just above the ragged twine,
Embraced by a limitless sky.

I am weightless and without fear
For those moments, I am painless
In those moments, life is breathtaking
And while I would love to always feel free
I know, right now,
Balance is all that I need
Norman Crane Sep 2021
buy love buy happy
nest balanced on a cliff's edge
what's bought is sold too
Nak Sep 2021
I don't feel fine in this place...
I feel confined to this space...
I don't feel fine in this place...

My thoughts in my mind's been displaced
I can't describe how it tastes
or all of the time that it takes
to get myself out of this race
I don't feel fine in this place...

She said that I'll be okay, but...
I listen to the words she don't say, cause...
that's where all her true feelings stay
I'm in an emotional state
But not cause it's been a bad day, nah...
keeping my balance to stay, calm...
One wrong step and you blast like a ******
All the commotion makes me wanna take off...

Would it be better to go or to stay?
I don't feel fine in this place...
Zywa Aug 2021
The exercises

just stretch the right body parts --


to straighten me out.
Collection "On living on"
Zywa Aug 2021
Faces in stainless steel,

not fleeting and not turbid --


just noble people.
"100 Heads" (stainless steel; 2020, Marc Quinn)

Collection "Mastress"
Zywa Aug 2021
Divided country:

many carry two buckets --


as a lighter load.
Ireland
"Terminus" (1987, Seamus Heany)

Collection "Actively Passive"
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