Monday, November 17, 2008

I am Alive

writing hides inside my throat
words burning to be spoken
in frail fingers
struggling to make their meaning known
in the stillness
where all life is born
words arise
as ghosts from ashes
the silent observer
sees everything
and speaks about the slant of sun
the breath of wind on lips
eyes colliding
life aching to be born
it comes to me as gift
and offers me salvation
all I have
is strength of spirit
writing comes
I answer
and so
I am alive


Sraddha Van Dyke said...

Ok, here's one for you... i wrote this quite a few years ago while in the depths of therapy.


I hold his photograph tenderly, imagining him crouched in the corral, focusing, checking shutter speed, the f-stop, the lighting. His pictures, these bits of incredible beauty, captured by his old, worn manual camera, choke me with love for him, simply because I know that HE SEES. This one, a web, sparkles in the rose and gold morning light. Tiny jewels, dew diamonds, are threaded like golden beads on silken strands.

They remind me of treasure at the bottom of his sluice box, the fool's gold, his angry flashing eyes. Silver sunshine dances on the surface of an upside down universe, a lake-sky full of stars. The breeze whispers softly, as if nothing at all were wrong. I feel the thrumming of his generator powering the dredge, it's nozzle bigger than my fist, sucks huge gashes from the creek bed, tears at the banks of my heart. I see myself cowering in the cattails, crying silently for the innocent fish caught in his huge, diabolical machine.

I pull myself back to the photo. I am so torn. Where do I end and He begin? He and I are part of each other, we must be!! He sees! I know that he does, the proof is in my hand.

lakshmi said...

Thank you for sharing this here, Sraddha. It is beautiful and eerie, with pain and love inherent. It shows a piece of your soul.

Of course, now I have so many questions! When will we get our tea-afternoon?

<3 U