trust

when you can pull your own weight
and stand your ground
to face the sun
and the wind tearing your fears apart
yet not hesitate to lean upon another
to receive the gift of weightlessness

when you can saddle your horse
and lead the way
through muddy waters
and thick forests
yet not cling to your steering nor your map
to keep you safe from harm

when you can look another in the eye
and loose yourself
in the light of love
oblivious to who you were
yet fully aware of who you are
one with everything

then you will have tasted
the sweet ecstasy of trust
and life will never again be the same

The bridge

You wake up each given morning standing on a shallow bridge feeling into a misty abyss You wake up again and again on the verge of either a breakthrough or yet another day of avoiding the emptiness You take note of your feelings write them down in technicolor and contemplate them from a safe distance Will you dare to cross the bridge today You wonder as you set your intention armored up to your neck with doubt There is a woman standing on the other side You can feel her gaze of steel piercing through your skin She had died in your dream the night before murdered by a psychotic ex husband yet there she stands, looking at you She will quietly wait on the other side with infinite patience and kindness until you either cross or burn down the fucking bridge What will it be?

The waiting

I wait for you

I wait for you
without waiting for you
and this kind of waiting is healing
because in the meantime
I face the void that spreads
like a gruesome nothingness
an infinite space
between my thoughts
between my doings
between my legs

I wait for you
without waiting for you
and in the meantime
I find myself
not as the waiter
not as the doer
not as the thinker
not as the lover
but as the infinite space
in between

I wait for you
and as I wait, I forget
what is it I am waiting for
is it your love
is it your attention
is it your seeing me
is it your feeling me
is it your touching me
is it your beckoning me home

I wait for you
to betray me
to deny me
to hurt me
to deceive me
to abandon me
so that I finally realise
that I am the one I have been waiting for
all along

what if

what if the fortress you have built
around your heart
with fearful invisible hands
to safeguard your little secrets
was but a temple made of sand
where love comes to pray
for an absolution?

what if the wall that splits
your kingdom into
separate tribes
one ruled by fear
and the other by love
was actually a bridge
upon which heralds of joy
bring their message hither and tither?

what if I were to cross
this bridge from my heart to yours
armed with but a song
and I were to kneel
by the ruins of your
broken city walls
to sing it back to you?

would you listen to the wind
that carries the ashes
of who you used to be
onto the womb of the earth
and water the soil
with your tears of grief
to saw the seeds of rebirth?

The call of the body

I sit with you
we pour some tea
as I speak of my misfortunes
of my rise and falls
of my know it alls
of my hopes and dreams
of my plans and schemes

You sit with me
as you sip your tea
and you tell me yours
of your dues and chores
of your pains and fears
of your days and years
of your secret plots
of your private thoughts

Yet if my body could speak
it would tell a different story
it would creak and moan
it would scream and groan
of my weariness
of my loneliness
of my fear to trust
of my pending lust

Yet if your body spoke
it would yield to yoke
it would yearn to melt
to be worn and felt
to be smelled and touched
to be held and clutched
to be rendered whole
by my body's call.

Joy

Sometimes it seems Joy eludes you like a dream perishing beneath your weary eyelids when you wake You try to grasp her pin her down hold on to her drag her down the highways and subways on cars and shuttle buses You force her into your bed and cling to her skirt in your entitled fit of rage You collect her moments, craft your strings of pearls in tiny belljars, never to be worn never to be touched never to be felt only to be worshiped from a distance You rob her of her children to build your armies and feed your wars in blind fury and greed for more, much more, forever more You pluck her hair and cover her face for you shan't bare any longer to stare in the eyes of the one that got away When you shall grow wise and forget to lay another brick on the wall between you and grief you will lay down your arms and weep And Joy will be there to catch your tears in her palms But there is no Joy in Pain There can't be you say as Joy lays down at your feet I am here, she shall whisper when you grow innocent I have always been here I will be here forever more

Twilight

the twilight hour
is your bridge hour
as you slowly drift
from the matter of facts
to the facts that matter

like the sun setting
upon your crests and falls
upon your cracks and walls
upon your dos and don'ts
upon your wills and wonts

like the wind howling
upon your highs and lows
upon your skin and bones
upon your yet agains
upon your hopes and plans

like the night falling
upon your empty bed
upon your weary head
upon your 'yet to be's
upon your tired knees

like the moon rising
upon your ruthless sky
upon your silent cry
upon your broken wings
upon your moonless things

the twilight hour
is your bridge hour
as you linger on shore
shaken to the core
by the facts that matter

Touch

there is a soft dizziness
that impregnates my joints
with humour

this makes my knees laugh
which, in return makes my feet dance
with lightness

there is a subtle tingling
that tickles my heart
with yearning

this makes my ribcage expand
which, in return fills my chest
with love

there is a silent storm
that steers my hands
with grit

this makes my fingers quiver
which, in return makes your fingers merge
with mine

This city is my forest

This city is my forest,

the concrete is my grass,

I fret my knees and elbows

on mountains made of glass.

This chamber is my meadow,

this bicycle, my horse,

I saddle cross a highway

on wheels out of course.

This pigeon is my eagle,

these stray dogs are my pack,

I hunt for empty chairs

on crowded subway tracks.

This sidewalk is my seashore,

this tramway is my ship,

I sail the traffic ocean

on moorings hard to grip.

The wind is my beloved

Who blows beneath my skirt

‘I sowed a flame inside you

to burn out all your hurt.’