Moon like a cradle
in rippling clouds climbing
higher as we speak
amazon_syren: (Default)
( May. 15th, 2009 04:12 pm)
Love is Hard.

Approximately one year ago, I asked a much-married friend of mine exactly how hard "hard" is, and her response was "slightly less hard than you can stand", with the caveate that, if every year you like and understand your partner(s) more than you did the year before (and that, presumeably, this regard and understanding are mutual), you're doing pretty well and things are going as they should be going.

I remember wondering how much more "hard" I could take, since I was nearing the point where it was drop this burden or watch myself buckle under the strain.

She also commented that, in a love-relationship, keeping things private is fine, but keeping things secret is... at best, well, a very bad sign.
At the time, I didn't understand the difference.
Maybe (probably) that's because, in a relationship with no boundaries, to keep something private is to keep something secret. In a relationship where both parties expected to spent their lives in merged, indivisible bliss, to reserve a part of oneself as separate is to... hold out, hold back, keep something hidden. Because separation isn't supposed to be happening.
That's the marriage I was in.
The more I think about it, the more I'm glad that I got out when I did. BUT it also makes me sad because, if we (both of us) had come into the relationship with a significantly better sense of when we each began and where the other ended, with a significantly better understanding of what was healthy togetherness and what was walking over each other's sense of self (or at least my sense of self -- I wonder how much he felt like this, too, though) and refusing to let the other be a separate individual... I wonder if we'd both had better boundaries (instead of defenses, for example), if we might still be married, in love, and happy. (Or, for that matter, if we might never have gotten married but parted ways amicably after two years of dating without the "goal" of 'Til Death Do Us Part looming large in both of our minds).

But, yeah. It's been about a year since I asked that question, about how hard is "hard" supposed to be... I'm only now starting to understand what kind of hard "hard" is.

Like a Seed is Hard

love isn't hard
like a mountainside is hard
a stone to be shouldered
heaving and straining against the weight
of a burden that can't be budged

love isn't hard
like a wall is hard
a rampart that needs no maintainance
a rampart
against which you slam your head
again and again
in frustration or dispair

love isn't hard
like a cynic is hard
growing bored and jaded
as the years are paraded
calcifying in stilted sameness
over decades of discarded expectations
hopeless yet unwilling to mourn that hope


love is hard
like farming is hard
the daily work
of tending the land and trusting
it will give you what you need

love is hard
like a seed is hard
sealed and protected
but able to open
take root,
lift, leaf, flower and fruit
in soil that will support it

love is hard
like this kernel of truth
planted under each other's bones
whose burgeoning bloom
allows us both to grow
amazon_syren: (Default)
( Jan. 28th, 2009 11:58 am)

You have vanished
lept head first
down the rabbit hole
trusting in your own quick feet
to catch you

I grow (and shrink) accustomed to phone calls
after midnight
tales of tweedledum and tweedledee
of running to keep your place

i fear you'll lose your head
to these would-be kings of hearts
to the looking-glass world inwhich you live

I wish i wasn't afraid to dive in after you
could swallow the 'drink me' potion
climb into your apron pocket
be beside you always

hatter mad with worry and nursing
my nerves like tea
i look to the crescent that gleams
outside my window

knowing, though we're worlds apart,
her cheshire grin
shines down upon us both
amazon_syren: (Default)
( Nov. 28th, 2008 10:45 am)
To My Beloved

I love you as the ocean loves the moon
Yearning for your distant body
Reaching for you always

I love you as the river loves the Spring
Able, once more, to move and surge and flow
Freed by your coming
Your warm breath on my body

I love you as ice loves the shore
Spread upon you, clinging to you,
Unwilling and unable to let go

I love you as dew loves the night
Granted by your presence the chance to be
Exactly what I am

I love you as the wellspring loves the rain
Longing to receive again
that part of myself that was missing


Any suggestions? This one still needs some tweaking.

- Amazon.
amazon_syren: (Default)
( Nov. 27th, 2008 12:35 pm)
Three Little Words

Three little words
Like an egg
In my mouth
On the tip of my tongue

What if I let them fall

What if
I let the shell crack

Let hope emerge (that red thing with feathers)

Three little words
On the tip of my tongue

What if I let them fly
This Prayer

I burn candles
Set bowls of honeyed light flickering
In darkness. Flames that dance like you

Spark match to wick
To honour them
Who brought you to me

A second chance

I ask them
Keeper of hearth and mother of us all
Lady of change, of the dead and the unborn,
Queen of whores and bearer of all courage
Wise guardian of queers, dykes, and musicians
The Child-no-more, who revels in her burgeoning, blooming body

I ask them

To watch

Over you
amazon_syren: (Default)
( Oct. 30th, 2008 11:54 am)
Making Beautiful Music

we are curled (on the couch)
twining limbs and voices

songs, like sweet nothings
murmured into ears
over skin

breath mingles
a kiss without lips touching

born of music

made of song



This love
is as spring after too long
a winter spent icebound

it is soft
slow rain
after years of drought

I feel my heart crack open
Beating again
This river fills
And overflows
Its banks
And I am flooded


This land my body
Can live again

This land
my body
can bloom
amazon_syren: (Default)
( Oct. 23rd, 2008 08:59 am)
Are You A Poem

Are you a poem?

I can hear you in the next room
For something you’ve lost

There’s water seeping into your bed sheets, and I
Have no idea where you keep the clean towels
But you
Take it all in [one long] stride

Are you a poem?

There are moments
When the calculated grace falters
When you flop
Boneless as a stolen doll
Falling to my carpet,
Moments when the mask slips
And you grin,
Goofy like sunlight
Or rest your head on my shoulder
Just breathing
There are moments when the
Truth leaks out

Are you a poem?



Up in Smoke

Sometimes I smell autumn on your skin
That mix of honey and smoke that lets me know
You’ve been with him again

Yeah, I know.
Thought I’d struck ‘jealousy’ out of my vocabularly
When I took polyamoury as part of my identity.

But I see you with him and I want to cry.

Every time you step outside
(just for a minute
A quick conversation)
I know that your hands and lips will be all over him
That you’re breathing his breath
Even though you know he’s poison.
That he’ll give you more pain
Than I ever could – or could ever
Want to.
Because I know
That’s why you like him.


Packing sliced pears and berries,
tempeh and tomatoes,
My back is seizing up
so I lean against the wall

One shocking crash later
There’s a painting
off its moorings
A frame on the floor
and fear in the air

The rest of the clean-up
in silence
tense and heavy

'til we leave
to catch a cab,

you with no coat on,

and me knowing too well

that I won't be back
for a while



last night you smiled
when you saw me

You, who are so lovely,
so effortlessly,
touched my carefully braided hair
with something
like reverence
and called me
So Beautiful

You made my night,
I, who take two hours
to look this good
for you


Make Me an Angel

we wake up slowly,
light filtering through the windows,
the heat of your body still
seeping into mine

you make me pancakes
with strawberries
so sweet I can taste them
for all you're in the kitchen
and I’m lounging
on the living
room floor

by the time you hit the shower,
we're singing
two rooms of harmony
while you wash your hair

Angels from Montgomery and
Walking in Memphis
You kiss me in the doorway
before letting me go.


These turned up (finally). They pertain to the evening (and morning) after Sara's art show last Saturday. :-)

What a lovely time that was. :-)
Goodbye (for now)

Goodbye (for now) to those fond dreams,
the pungent scent of sweat,
the sighs,
to gazing long, across the room,
to meet your eyes (a stranger).
Goodbye (for now) to that soft, trailing touch,
to the silk of your skin (unknown),
and the sudden breathing-in
that catches, hitches, in your throat.
Farewell, fare well, until we meet (again).
I promised I wouldn't kiss you


Shattered Tales

Tell the story
over and over
over and over
Arrange the world, every word,
Each shard of shattered truth,
Until a whole emerges,
Different from before.


The Reasons Why You Stayed

You stayed
(because you loved me)
You stayed
(because you wanted me)
You stayed
(because you needed me)
You stayed
(because you couldn't pay
the rent
all on your own)
amazon_syren: (Default)
( Apr. 20th, 2008 05:22 pm)

The clock ticks

if we met now,
would we have met at all?

The house is silent

cars on the road go by outside the window
you're upstairs and I can hear you

The house is silent

is this the beginning of the end?

The clock ticks
And the present
Becomes the past


Where Do We Go From Here?

Where do we go from here?

(the album, unfinished, on the shelf,
the china growing dusty)

Where do we go from here?

(so many pictures,
a lifetime in five short years)

Where do we go from here?

(no roads where we're heading,
no signs to point the way.
We're sailing through uncharted waters now)

Where do we go from here?


Of Rue and Thyme

The garden is run wild,
a riot of fiery blooms.
But there is mildew on the vine.
And for all their riotous colours,
the fruit is bitter and small.



You thought everything was fine,
That we were good again,
And then the truth came out,
A lightening lash with
In her mouth.
So, I had dinner with Ami_B tonight.

Thank goodness. :-)

We did a lot of talking, as we always do, went deep and I ended up shaking. Big talking.

It was good. It helped.

Thanks, sweetie. :-)

Wrote this when I got home:

Away From You

My back is turned
away from you, my mind
stretched out to cyberland,
for a mind,
a heart, like mine.
My back is turned, away from you,
My heart stretched out towards Finland, Germany, Oklahoma, BC,
Anywhere but here
with you.
My back is turned away
from you,
My heart
peers (back) over my shoulder,
and watches
your. every. move.


In other news, check this out: MatchItForPratchett.

- Amazon. :-)


amazon_syren: (Default)


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