Friday, August 8, 2014

Things He Said




from desert flight
he descended upon her nest
on a Taurus moonlit night,
dragging his broken, golden wings behind,
warning he may not stay long
yet engulfing every moment
awake and asleep, with his presence.

he said she was a stepping stone
and so he stepped on her threshold

she said she didn’t really mind
(except she did sort of mind )
but looked for a deeper voice
she caught a glimpse of in a dream…

and she was hungry
his lips were sweet,
a flavor she had known
somehow

It was nectar
to be near him.

something told her to let him stay
and he stayed
though he said he didn’t know why…
and she offered him water
and he drank and drank and drank

and they would laugh, and play, and he flooded her with attention 

and as soon as she felt in love

he said he felt nothing

nothing

no thing at all

she dreamed of poison snakes in the gemini moon...

the surface is hard
but surface cracks
the stepping breaks the stones
under the stones is the water
he longed for water
she let him drink

as she longed for water
so drank his tears
listening, patiently
to long dead stories that filled the air
with sound and sorrow
and longing

she touched his scaly wings
his steel clad armor skin
and tried to reach inside
feeling moments of melted metal
she sang to break the barriers
to feel the soft inside spaces
and heal the broken pieces
or at least try to soften the edges.

He drank with desert thirst,
offering hollow words to her hope
that almost, maybe, he might want her
if she just kept offering her tenderness...

he wondered why he stayed,
arguing that it was

convenient

for him

that their arrangement 
was simply a business arrangement
and needs should be negotiated

except they never were discussed

and she excused it.
wrote it off,
because who was she
to have needs that mattered?

and his kisses felt guarded
unless she worked to open them
to soften them
as though afraid to push open
the gates he held so closed

and it drew her in, 
that he was so willing to receive

...the allure of healing, 
(with a sound like being sucked into the void)
seduced her into a twisted hall of mirrors.

and he said he didn’t find her beautiful
while he raved about women all around him 
who wanted him, or (he imagined) wanted to taste him,
women who appeared and circled and reappeared
and wrapped themselves around his world,

while he said he longed for a stepford wife
that had all the inner qualities he found in her
and she would never have the outer qualities
he ordered from the menu
and was confused because she wasn’t that
(because he was supposed to be omnipotent)

she wasn’t there for that character  
she was there for the water she dreamed of
behind the dam of his devices,
and patience began to grow wings
his stream of unconsciousness
denting her armor
her body aching in pain
from his boots…and she questioned her willingness 
to receive the mental blows
while she longed to reach the shores
of the deeper waters

she questioned his intentions
as they walked and mingled, her floating on his arm
the world saw her beauty
and he saw glimpses in their eyes,
she could see him seeing them seeing
what he wouldn’t see

and he defended, deflected, mirrored her weaknesses
got mean on a dime
pushed her buttons on purpose
and attempted to undermine her insights


they slept,
(wrapped up and entwined)
in a sea of self doubt
she dreamed... 

of wasps destroying trees
of bees threatening to swarm
of trying to garden in a vast wasteland...

In the cancer moon’s light 
she knew that he had to step 
on his own stepping stones
to see above the mask
break the armor
that kept him blind

only then
could he see her beauty
hear her insights
touch her with longing fingers
to find the waters
inside of himself
to offer nectar
to their union

she knew
he would need to protect
and give back what he was drinking
or she would fix his wings 
with the bloody needle of his own shadow,

the one he couldn't see
the one he tried to make hers,

and she would send him flying
into the lonely desert
of his superficial existence.

before the roar of the Leo moon, 
a hurricane smashed the glass
in the hall of mirrors.
where she saw the truth lying in the shards,
pieces of her scattered on the ground 
in a heap.
A glimmer of reality echoed in blue,

fogs of awakening...

there would be no great healing,
that was a mirror of her narcissistic hope...
she had simply been Carrion food,
picked apart methodically, 
(as a raptor knows the most delectable parts),

Be gone! she said as she released him to the sky,
his great dark wingspan casting shadows over the nest,
silhouetted as they ascended
and disappeared into the morning.




7 comments:

the walking man said...

It is sad and cautionary tale, a simple act of kindness leading to becoming nothing but food for the strength to fly one to find another nest to tenderize, then foul.

Oh so how many times are the bitterly eaten found by them who know how to stitch together broken glass? Few, too few.

A heart, tough broken heals itself in time and patience and the knowledge that one first cares for themselves before they dare trust to care for another.

Be Well

TWM

Catherine Vibert said...

Indeed, it is all to common an experience.

Self care includes getting to know and trust someone over time. And following your gut instincts, which isn't always easy considering the primal urges that argue with the instincts... :-)

teddy crescendo said...

This is all such ludicrous and pretentious nonsense.

Catherine Vibert said...

Teddy, could be... or, it could be that my poem struck a minor chord and triggered you somehow. Either way, creative writing is a cathartic weaving of truth and fiction, you get to decide which is which.

Sarah Hina said...

I'm sorry for the heartache that led to the dam of words being broken, but I'm glad to see you post some poetry here again, Cat. I can feel the tension of that months-long torturous dance drain from your lines here, and you are undiminished in the aftermath.

And you know what? I'm looking at your painting of the moon right now, hanging over serene waters. I hope you feel the calm of THAT moon soon. Hugs.

Catherine Vibert said...

Hi Sarah! Thank you for your words, and yes, a little heartache there for sure. Very much wanted things to go differently than they did. Some excellent lessons learned, however, and a little more dedication to allowing time for peering behind the curtain before diving right into 'things'. :-) I was maybe just a little too hungry for my own good going into it. However, not to be a victim, I know what I did to set it up, and I am still glad for the experience. What the hell, right?

Catherine Vibert said...

PS Sarah, so glad to see you! Hope to be doing this writing/posting/blog thing a lot more regularly again. Cathartic... Hugs!!

Happy Easter, Pappy

It’s been seven years since you died on Mother’s Day. Mother’s Day and Easter were your favorite holidays. Being in the garden with your fam...