Chiron-ke

Yusuf Grillo

Painted by Yusuf Grillo

I want love.
I ask for love,
but when Mother Earth offers it to me,
I shake my head from side to side.

You may think of me as a child,
and you may think of me as a pregnant lady,
but I see myself as pregnant,
not as a child who does not
know what they are doing.

I am in pain.
I am pregnant.
I bear and carry my hurt
like an unborn child
in my heart’s womb.

No one can deliver this child;
no one except me.
No one but me
can deliver my self,
but I don’t know how to,
or is it that I don’t want to?

I can’t.  

I’m a pregnant midwife
who delivers people’s pain-children
but walks around with her own
still-born still in her.

No one but me
can deliver my self,
but I don’t know how,
or is it that I don’t want to?

I can’t. 

You may think of me as a child,
and you may think of me as a pregnant lady,
but I’d prefer it if you
do not think of me at all.

 

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Love and Life

Little-Yachtsman

“Little Yachtsman” by Amanda Jackson

He cannot be the love of your life
if what he has is the love of your life,
not the love of you.
He praises you because you have this,
and you can do that,
but those things removed,
he wouldn’t know what to do with you;
you would have no use to him.

Stages of Life

Arodan Image

Things do not end
because they weren’t meant to be,
but because they were.
Predestined,
planned,
timed,
like a stage play,
to be seen,
to be experienced,
to be felt,
to be learnt from.

As soon as the play is done,
and the end begins,
actors should take front-row seats
and watch their own work-
what they could have done better,
what they should do and not do
in the next play,
as opposed to regretting
that they took part in it
in the first place,
as awkward as it may seem,
as much as it may hurt.

You Make Wings Fly

Freedom

“Freedom” by Tabetha Landt

Wings don’t make you fly;
they’re useless without the mind.
Wings need you to fly.
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JHR

Love: Wings and Legs

Collete Miller.png

Painted by Collete Miller

Love gives you wings, 
but when the wings are abruptly taken away, 
your legs are yanked off too.

Love, after it is withdrawn,
leaves you somewhat paralyzed.

And so,
first,
you have to grow a new pair of legs-
the process hurts like a “modafocka”.

Then you develop an irrational fear of wings,
which is funny,
but also sad.

Freedomination

Birdy

“The Heart of a Bird” by Colette Wirz Nauke

In your quest for freedom,
if you must fill your wings with anything,
or decorate your wings,
decorate them with feathers,
not gold.

With gold, other birds will stop by,
and admire your beauty,
and aspire to be like you,
and worship the ground beneath your feet.

The day of the storm will come,
the day of the storm is coming,
and on that day,
with extra feathers,
you will fly very quickly to safety.

The day of the storm will come,
the day of the storm is coming,
and on that day,
with golden, swollen wings,
your worshippers will leave you,
the rain will catch up with you,
and beat you till you can barely breathe.

Bitter-Sweet

How can a yang be a yin?
How?
How can a thing that ought to heal, hurt?
How can a thing that ought to help you walk,
and better still,
give you wings,
keep you in chains,
and make you weak?
How?
How can a thing that ought to give you life
take your breath?
How can a feeling
be the opposite of itself,
when unrequited?
A thing so sweet and tender,
like a newborn baby,
but strong enough
to put you in a chokehold
when you least expect it?

Love, delicate and dangerous.

The Only Constant Thing

Who says the only constant thing is change?
My belly hurts from trying to hold back my laughter,
because even change isn’t always constant.

Sometimes, when you don’t want Change,
when you are sincerely happy with where you are,
and the things you have,
she looks for you and disrupts your house, anyway,
whether or not she has a new one ready.

Many times, when you seek change,

you don’t always get it;
you yearn for it and look for it
but you don’t always find it.

Change closes her eyes when you need her most
and pretends to be legally blind,
and so, even change isn’t constant or stable.
You can’t hold your breath for her,
put all your eggs in her basket,
or put your trust in her.

The only constant thing
is nothing.

The Plot

I should tell you a thing
that happened many centuries ago,
that only I know of.
The stars were going on again
about how great it would be
to replace the moon with the sun.

“Oh, she’s so dull; she’s no fun.
The sun shines brighter;
she’d be so much better for us.”

They all connived to do the replacement
that ended up being very successful.
No one even knew they existed
with the sun shining so brightly;
they hated every minute of having her around.

The grass is greener when you look from afar.
Flowers tend to be extremely beautiful,
until you pluck them to keep and they die.
The sun draws you to her,
she gives light and love and warmth,
like a beautiful, adult siren,
until you draw really close.

The moon decided to return,
and take her place,
as you can see;
your moon may not decide to.

My Only Regret

a_bird_in_a_cage_by_sebowebo-d5esu3r

The only regret that I have
is having regrets-
regretting things that I had
not even attempted yet,
hating myself for making mistakes,
for not being able to change
the things that I couldn’t,
thinking that things end because
they should never have been,
killing myself for wanting to live.

En dehors de ce regret,
je ne regrette rien.