Summit

Where stunted shrubs sweep thick clumps 

Of green delight across crumbling taupe canvases of stretched reason,

Unafraid to lick the snowy drifts of understanding prostrated across wisdom's polished crests,

A dangerous seventh wind of that mountain top 

Also inhabits the same body that swims delirious through the landscape of sleep.

As the soul strokes a coin reflecting the aching light of love,

Nine centuries grow pink in the rising and setting sun of samsara.

Reflected in the wet pebbles on a beach of memory,

I stumble over the soft spoken promises of a long forgotten friend, a trembling petal entrapped by an invisible current.

A new season steps barefoot into the mossy carpet of eternity 

Obediently displacing previous instances' murmurs into the intoxicating wash of time.

The suite of worship, radiantly languid as it patiently trickles through porous faith, 

Beckons, standing in the foyer of yesterday,

Rendering ghost and flesh as elaborately indiscernible as rain and river cupped in the same vessel.

Dishonor

Dishonoring my emotions
Holding them in my mouth
Clenching my jaw against them
Swallowing them deep into me
Where I can't see

You know me best
But sometimes it's like you hardly know me at all
Because I couldn't ever let the needs inside me
Come tumbling out around you
And that's why this will end

When I met you, I thought I could live without myself
But I transformed because you helped heal me
Making me feel safer than I have before
I could embrace what I thought I'd killed when I buried it alive
But now I'm burying myself for you

It feels wrong to do wrong by both of us like this
But I feel such shame and fear
When I think of telling you who's really there
Sleeping next to you in the bed we share
I wish I could control my thoughts and feelings, but life is never fair.