Cautious re-entry

Somewhere beneath angry words
and pain of hurt feelings
lies that love, small and private
between you and I.
Touch it . . .
reach beyond shallow fears,
with critical demands for perfection
and petty stabs of insecurity
to find, nestled in the hollows
of raw, aching need
that one fragment of emotion,
pure, untainted by abuse
and draw strength . . .
to search further than cruel torture
and bridge that yawning gap
so we might meet once again
in that private world of caring
found one night in the past,
and begin to renew our faith
in the love we have found
to search for peace,
a common ground of surrender
to love’s cautious ways.

Love is . . .

Love isn’t the brassy blare of a band, marching down the avenue on July 4th’s celebration. Oh, to be sure – that is part of it – loud jangles, crash of cymbals, heartbeat of drums. But love has many faces, some apparent, some quite deceptive.

Love is the gentle stirrings evoked by a walk after a thunderstorm’s power, smelling the earth, watching lightening flitter over the New York skyline, curled up on a rock, and telling each other of your pasts, and peoples – speaking in reverence and caring tones.

Love is the sharp pain of betrayal and the shooting stabs of hurt inflicted upon sensitive, fragile egos that make one near in anger and rage – defending yourself at risk of rejection – yet believing, nonetheless, first in your own sense of worth.  Being able to say “fuck you” to the one you love.

Love is the despair and confusion and insecurity brought forth in opening yourself up to another person.  Of being aware of his frailties and still wanting him more than ever – because of those faults not in spite of them. Of seeing the flaws yet not running away.  Of opening yourself , baring your soul when trust is just a mirage, still to become real from knowing your love, facing it and not walking away, and of having to tell that other person that love is there – whether or not he chooses to respond in kind.  Of wanting so much to hear the words “I Love You”, yet not pressing but allowing them to come of their on accord at a time of his choosing – if at all.

Love is passion and the exploration of a body found wildly exciting – seeking those hidden sources of pleasure, being sexually vulnerable.  And love is those quiet ripples that float through your body as you see the one you love or think of him during the course of your day.  Love is giving and taking- together or apart – the stillness of soul touching – the fire of lust, the knowledge that this is something different than any before or any after, but that a part of you, larger than ever before, rests in the hands of another, and you are content, or largely so, to have it that way.  Love is a gift from God to be savored, enjoyed revered, for each moment it is a part of you.

Love is encouraging the strengths in the other, urging him to grow and explore facets of himself.  Being a source of strength rather than drowning him in your need.  Love is knowing the relationship may end yet moving forward in self-determination, with trust and belief gathering your courage about you, a mantle of strength in the storm of emotion.  Love is knowing that love may change in form and substance, devolving into a well of despair, fragmenting, feathering away into a manifestation of a different making – yet Love still.  Love is holding still the trembling of the soul.

Love is the bringing into the world two children to bless this union. Children precious, deserving of all that is good.  Physical manifestations of love and passion.  Children who bear witness of good and ill. Who bear the scars of devastation.

Love is the torture of knowing your love was always far greater than his. Of sustaining emotional scars, physical bondage, inquisitions, blasphemies, of running and hiding to escape his wrath. Of finally, running away, knowing not to do so would mean your death, be it emotional or physical.

Love is the PTSD moments after the Fall. Twenty years later.  The choosing aloneness rather than taking the risk of opening yourself up again.  Of the nightmares that continue, again and again, of what it turned out to be.  Of the ending, cruel, painful, devastating in consequences not just for the two of you, but for the children brought forth from the union of those souls.  Of the never ending trauma that follows in your wake, curling in sadness and despair deep within.

Intertwined

Twins under the skin,
we blend and merge
only to separate, redefine,
and begin again.
Clones in many ways
yet strangers when glimpsing
sides not seen before within
our own beings –
high intensity  and gentle understanding
mark our progress
into this strange dimension
of loving communion –
an affirmation of ourselves
through the eyes of each other;
registering new strengths
and frightening weaknesses
through continual interweaving
of complexity and analysis.
When final comprehension
begins to dawn,
the picture changes,
as new sides emerge
and twins begin combat
with equal strength –
only to flair again
into fiery, playful passion
and a quiet linking of souls
in an osmosis of emotion –
ebbing and flowing –
attraction and repulsion
by that seen within
and viewed in each other,
companions in a duet of desire.

Emergence

Each day with you seems a reprieve
or a rare gift given to wonder and delight
Anger may flare, wills clash,
passion builds to a roaring crescendo,
yet for every hurt lie a hundred gentle memories
of softly lit eyes and hands caressing
in tender ecstasy either pliant or powerful.

I seek your presence as a thirsty soul
searches for water among arid plains –
and feel at home with tempestuous moods
or quiet perusals –
content in that special brand
of soul touching.

 

His special essence

Reflecting sides of a prism,
full of light and diversity . . .
each time those eyes
burn with that special
brand of intensity
I want you more
than days before.
As layers peel, dimensions surface,
complexity interweaving
in subtle variations
of themes my own, yet
seen within your mind –
the pull between
your essence and mine
binds, grows, strengthens
and that certain allure
only you possess
comes into increasingly
sharp focus.
A unity of spirit exists
as we spin tales of days past
or speak in reverent tones
of a future misty and vague –
and a tiny voice
growing in strength
says I want to be there
to see the person
as he unfolds.

New Neighbors

I stood at the window, gazing down as the cops “escorted” another drug addict from the building.  “Isn’t the first, won’t be the last”, I mumbled as I watched the three of them talking.  “Damn Bryson” I mouthed as I thought how one more time he had found “good guys” to be renters. They were always problems one way or the other, generally met at the local bar.

When I pulled into the driveway just minutes before I could see two police cars in between the drug dealer’s place and this apartment building.  I figured they had come here when I saw one of the guys’ car at a slant, blocking the two other cars in the parking lot. As this was a supreme no,no, I figured the cops were here, at the apartment that had been moved into just a few weeks ago.

Now it was just a matter of getting the story from one of the other tenants. Dee is always the go-to gal.  She knows everything that has gone on in the building for the last twenty years, because she has lived here that long and has a nose for trouble.  Years ago, she had a relationship with Byron so their’s is a complicated story.  She’s the “Building Manager” and handles what emergencies come up unless they require Byron’s hand.  All of her children have lived in the building, at one time or another, with their families.

Dee reported Matt, one of the guys upstairs, had called the police because a guy who had spent a couple of nights was being disruptive and needed to be removed, and not going on his own. Matt is trying hard to maintain some control in an apartment with 2 other guys, both addicts of one kind or another.  Matt has his own issues.  He is the only one working but he is on the slow side. Dee said the police were being real jerks, treating Matt as if he were the issue, frisking him and jeering at his lack of ability to control the situation on his own.

I told Dee about Matt’s car blocking her car and another tenant’s.  She grumpily went up to tell Matt he had to move the car.  She watched out the window as Matt went outside, looked perplexed, scratched his head, and moved the car forward a couple of feet.  Turns out, as Dee and I had been talking, Matt had moved is car to its accustomed place. Dee and I laughed our butts off.

Something’s Gotta Give

I agree completely. Thank you for writing this

BeautyBeyondBones

I’m having one of those moments where I literally feel like I’m floating.

And no, there are no illegal substances in my body. Although, I did just eat some cotton candy grapes, and I’m convinced that there’s a magic ingredient in there, because those things are unreal.

giphy-5

But I legitimately feel lighter than air.

Ever since my mom’s stroke back in December, family has obviously been top priority. We’ve come together as a unit and dug in for the long haul. I’ve been home from NYC for the last four months, and just this past week, my brother and his wife moved two houses down from my parents in the neighborhood we grew up in.

Talk about an amazing couple.

And so this weekend, my mom and I threw her a party to welcome her to the neighborhood.

That party was today.

And it was amazing.

giphy-8
But not for…

View original post 688 more words

Vast Reaches

The time has come
to search beyond fears
and trepidations of
long instilled torments
and reach for pinnacles,
scary but alluring,
rather than remaining
sequestered behind walls
built to protect,
to put the soldier,
always holding the fort,
maintaining structure
and security to rest
to experience peaks and valleys,
of knowledge and understanding,
loving and letting in,
sharing and fighting . . .

It is a time
for new beginnings,
an exploration of the sense,
questing for gratification,
in opening oneself up
to the frailties and strengths
never before explored.

The time has come
to love, to like, to play
… to be and be with,
to be at home
within the vast reaches
inside myself