Spirit in Refrain

I was angry at my body this morning for feeling so weak, worn, and willowed, 

My ears too sensitive to man made sounds. 

In that headspace, hidden behind a dingy door painted in blackest blue, 

The halls to my spacious, yet fretting safe,

Call to me as an internal contemptuous cave,

Walls adorned by faces scorn, close callously in on me.

An overwhelming pressure persists amidst my skull and behind my eyes,

Making the wind’s gentle whistle 

Through the sloth shaped branches and leaves 

All the more lovely. 

I tune into surrounding singsong chirps, 

To then doze off to the sounds of Michael’s  

Melancholic melodies that magically melt my mind.

His muse now setting down her personal musings,

No more can I manage to write and instead, fade from physical frustrations

To disconnect, then emerge as sunshine stained leaves,

 Left alone to swing in silent slumber.

Drifting. Drifting.

I thought of green metamorphic patterns, ablaze in our golden orb, 

Transcending the sphere to extend infinitely, 

In a kaleidoscopic prism of warm hues. 

A mandala of sunset death to sunrise birth,

Exploding colors of yin and yang. 

Blossoming butterflies, dancing dragonflies, and lightening lady bugs 

Communing in a cyclical flutter of electric emotion and divine devotion

To form Laputa, our sacred space for lamentation. 

“I hear the real, though far off hymn, that hails a new creation...”

Then those delicate winged words waken my lips.

I taste a hunger for my love’s embrace and honeyed tea. 

Still gently swinging as I lay on my back,

I open my eyes to the sway of vibrant green above, 

Reflecting lemon rays from the too bright sun.

Just one black bird is present in the clear, omniscient sky.

I delight in this pristine peace, until children across the fence 

Send shrills of late spring joy through the air. They are too loud, my hazy head sighs. 

‘Tis understandable, for the sun sings, “Summer Solstice is nigh”,

But I so desire the still that comes with heavy velvet darkness and a roaring fire.

My fire did then come, my sweet love with his Bee Gee’s hair and poetic air.

He sat with me on the swing as I still was in pain.

A sloth wanting not to move—arms, legs and spirit in refrain. 

I sat up and held my love tight, abandoning a few tearful breaths 

To let go of all that was draining me. 

Kisses and connection, 

Eye to eye,

Ajna to Ajna, 

Deep well to deep well. 

This man brings me to grounded life, no matter where I stray and seek to obliterate.

He makes me sane within this fertile, metamorphic, impossible love. 

He is my fate and slowly with him, my heart’s tethered bile shall dissipate,

As I dissolve into God’s unwavering waters of Heavenly heroin,

To become the heroine who needn’t stay from wholeness and faith. 

I breathe in once more to breathe out fear. I am here, only ever here.

Forever holding up a mystical mirror for all willing to see this God of love

Who deems we two become one.