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| Muse: Shadow Of Iris |
I think I'm breaking your heart
with my wings
spreading...
the span casting aspersions
that knit your eyebrows
into tenets,
presuming each feather as a space in between
ligaments separating from your bones
My spirit requested
an exhumation
from a burial I allowed, yet not intending to
fly away
just dance on the surface
of an old grave
.
.
.
Normally when one person's wings unfurl, someone else's heart ends up broken...
ReplyDelete~shoes~
I think sometimes we break our own hearts with the hammer and chisel of presumption, fear, and misunderstanding. We carry ourselves to funerals where no one else is present...no corpse...no body...no death, we only thought it so.
ReplyDeleteAmen, sister. Luckily, wings are soft when unfurled. I love this. xoxo
ReplyDeleteLove you,
Marion
"Angels have no philosophy but love." ~Terri Guillemets
Imagine synchronized flight though Annie. Wouldn't that be something? We can feel like our hearts are breaking only to realise that all it is is our fear trapping us ... preventing our wings from unfurling in response to this happening in the ones we love. Sometimes I think we break our own hearts over our unwilligness to move beyond fear to action.
ReplyDeleteWe break our hearts over what we think is happening rather than what is actually happening. Ha! Our hearts need to listen to our heads. Not always ... but sometimes! At least sometimes.
And yes the news is wunderbar here at the mo with FIL. All good. xx Jos
guilty! it is said that pain only exists in the past and in the expected...never in the present, and yet I'm torn apart...brilliant writing
ReplyDeleteI love this. It's excellent.
ReplyDeleteI think of fertility, something new coming up from the humus of a broken heart. I know it sounds like I've got the order reversed, but somehow I'm not so sure.
What a beautiful poem!
Marion - Wings can also be nuturing. I think of baby chicks, tucked against a warm body.
ReplyDeleteJos - Yes, synchronized flight. All you said is wise. Life breaks our hearts often enough. And we, in our fear, forcast it yet again when it is not even a spot on the horizon.
Lorraine - I think I live torn apart. It is what fuels my creativity. We are those windows we seek. Beaten up, but beautiful.
Matt D - Your poem inspired me :)
Something always grows from a broken heart. Sometimes bitterness. But if we allow it, something lovely, and yes...fertile.
So true, Annie! And I immediately thought of one of the most comforting, loving metaphors in the entire Bible: of God as a loving bird parent:
ReplyDelete"He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge. His truth is your shield and armor." Psalm 91:4
Love you! Have a wonderful weekend, my sister, my friend. xoxo
Annie,
ReplyDelete"just dance on the surface
of an old grave"...I would be sitting beside, just to see that dance...It might be the most beautiful thing yet or after..thank you for this...I shall come like a bird...You wouldn't know...
oh my .. yes, this is brilliant ...
ReplyDeleteembracing life in totality .. growing into our own aspect of life ... can cause pain all round
i'm thinking, these days, whatever we do to hold ourselves back or grow while a loved one catches up - or vice versa - creates ..
sometimes mayhem ...
especially when we dance on our own grave and wing anew ...
those first 3 lines ... ohhh ... sublimely perfect!
One has to be happy in order to make others happy. There's just no getting around that.
ReplyDeleteOh I like that ps Windows back on, just a little temper tantrum on my part ;)
ReplyDeleteI love the image of spreading your wings and breaking someone's heart in the process although personally I believe that if that person's heart was big enough,unfurling your wings shall only make him/her happy.Undoubtedly a lovely read.
ReplyDeleteOthers may perceive it as a rejection when we claim our right to be - to become - who we are. It's sad. Maybe that's how we know if a person truly loves us: they release us from the obligation to be what they want us to be; they allow us to dance to the music we hear, without needing to always hold us tight.
ReplyDeleteExhumation is considered a universal taboo, but for the dead to request to be disinterred is only right and proper. We owe them that much, I figure.
Manik - It's how we come to each other here. Light. Tip toeing around unbeknownst...unless we leave a dropping or two :) I see you gently dancing on your own graveyard bones.
ReplyDeleteShell - Yes! A beautiful reply, thank you. Seems we always grow rather in syncopated spurts. Interesting, as if we might miss witnessing the others wings if we were to grow at the same time.
Jonas - "If momma ain't happy..." and so it goes.
Lorraine - You and your temper tantrums. I LOVE THEM...how quickly they come and go. Keeps me guessing. A real woman of mystery you are.
Jay - I think you're right, after the initial shock of stretch, there can be a delightful sensation of something growing within...a child maturing in the hearts womb so to speak.
Andreas - "Allow us to dance to the music we hear, without needing to hold us tight." I am thinking of this also as a parent...how we have have to let our sons march to their own drummer, even when they have marched straight off the cliff. You're right, we owe them that much. Yet it's heartbreaking when you know how much that fall is gonna hurt.
Well, if you can't dance on the grave, at least plank on it eh. What's being dug up here???
ReplyDeleteI like this poem and ditto your response to Red Shoes.
ReplyDeleteWell done! :-)
Travis - A spirit is being dug up here. Something buried that needs wings. A younger me.
ReplyDeleteWe do four minutes of planks a day in workout. Not your kind. Gotta be up on your toes and your forearms. They should be called WashBoards instead of planks!
Jamie & Amy - Thank You!
dance slightly tethered, yet still dancek,,,
ReplyDeletethe first lines are so simple and powerfully profound. i really felt this one.
ReplyDelete