Wednesday, 14 April 2010

Iles de Corps

I once met a man who told me
Sobriety is like
Finding you are in the
First morning of your life

I understand him now:
As an addict who has walked
Away from that which
Kept me wild and stimulated
For most of my life

My drug wasn’t from the street
It wasn’t even a nice
Lovely Latin named delusion
Obtained from a doctor

Mine were from flowers grown here:
Dopamine and Serotonin.
Wild waves of a shore
Torn asunder
From a lack of understanding
Of the simple motion of tides

For as an island,
I found that the great ocean
Is connected to my shore
(a part of my ecosystem)
And in order to find peace
I had to level the sand

Emerging is a new dawn
I see the shipwrecked
Pieces ashore
Torn bits from a life
Lived in desperate tempest

I see treasures, too
An oasis I had not known about
Wild birds in the trees
Loud colors amidst
The slow moving palm fronds

I have found monsters, as well
Creatures I once feared
Skulking in the shadows
I toss them coconuts
To feed on

I see footsteps in the sand
Small creatures have overtaken
And formed communities
In tide pools of memory

I have found that some have been banished
From the reaches of my shore
The howler monkeys hang limpid from trees
Slow sedate sighs of gratitude

I have plans for constructing a marina
But for now, I am content to explore
This beautiful Isle de Corps
A new dawn has risen, the first one I can recall.

[Musings on the emergence of my true self after stabilizing after a lifetime of chronic overstimulation]

Tuesday, 6 April 2010

Goyan Musings

When I was a young girl
I would dream of witches:
Haggard cackling monsters laughing
At my mundane stumbling through life.

I remember being so scared when a friend told me,
After the confession of my love of spiders,
That only witches love spiders:
I trembled as I saw myself growing older
Darker, more wicked and cried.

Now that I am older:
A Witch -
But none too dark -
Or scary;

I laugh at the the old fears
Of the monster I was afraid to become.
Now my nightmares
Are friends, companions,
Blithe, laughing spectres;
Finding humor in the rediculous uncertainty of life.

Some days I wonder if fears
Are merely doors -
That open to the dreams
We so secretly desire…

Thursday, 1 April 2010