Curves, a poem…

Listen, Love

Someday, a bright red pain
A red unlike any you’ve worn
May come searing through your heart
And sit inside you
Stunning the senses
Replacing your freedom to be.

I hope not, but I do, but I hope not
But that day
No matter what fairytales I tell you
I won’t be able to hush it away
Like I did your bruises and tears
The fevers and fogs all these years.

So, you need to know
I’ll be right outside the door
That we both shall build between us:
You, to be alone with your self
Me, to push you to it
And wait.

Learning has curves for a reason, my love
Once, we learn to let go for our own sake
Then, spiralling up, for the other’s.
So we’re freed, spiral by spiral
Alone but together, together but alone.

The Day, That Very Day

Helena Scherfbeck, 1862 – 1946, Finnish Artist

The day you hear that river
Burst through the old ice
And begin to flow deep inside you
Go away far, be roaming and irreverent

Like a tiger, hungry…
For the only one who needs you the most now
Is you.

Go, lie on the open body of grass –
For it is both small and endless…
It can understand, wordlessly
When you tell it that
You are erupting like a tiny seed
That carries the blues of creation in its void.

And for once, don’t be afraid
Of that precious light
They call madness and prescribe ways to cure…
Use it for what it is meant:
The only proven method
To get the world out of your way.

Courage…

I learned from those who became
Infamous
That to see your truth at the point
When it’s not wearing any clothes
And then to write about it
Is the only true chance anyone has
At creating a bit of world peace…
For, in nakedness, we might come

And stand close
To exchange some real warmth for once.
Poetry, then, isn’t what many
don’t understand –
It is what many don’t have
The courage to do.

Fugitives (Vilhelm Bjerke-Petersen, 1943)