Impossible Map Past Death
© Surazeus
2018 09 23
The young girl on the bright city street
covers her mouth to conceal her desire.
Smog of her heart clouds the strange cityscape
where silent crickets wait at the night door.
She cannot see her hands in morning light
to touch the roots of trees that hide the rain.
She holds my hand while we walk through the park
and whispers she is spirit in the wolf.
I kiss her neck and smell her flowing hair
while she lies still and becomes the moonlight.
She grinds bones of her ancestors to salt
to sprinkle on the steak she grills for us.
Our two frail daughters transform into boys
who divide themselves into morning clouds.
From skull of their grandfather they carve masks
to play roles of characters they design.
The owl in the doorway gives key of light
that heals the wound it caused through alchemy.
Taking off her glasses on downhill road,
she searches for truth beyond perfect vision.
I want to make worlds from the wounds we hide,
she explains to the owl no one can see.
She heaps forgotten memories as stones
to mark the way back to the river tree.
She holds egg of the hawk in her right hand
and geode of crystal in her left hand.
She cracks them both open to find my soul
which pours over my face from broken dreams.
She forges her heart into the sharp axe
and chops down trees to build our secret home.
She holds my hand with pungent urgency
so I draw impossible map for her.
She will never be the ghost of my heart
for she is always somewhere in our house.
She is the idea of the swan whose wings
translate sorrow into the soothing tune.
From absolute beginning of the circle
we become one skeleton in pale fog.
We are flames of desire covered in mud
to open eyes inside words we might speak.
While we are alone together in peace,
ghosts of our ancestors float on the lake.
After digging in the garden since dawn,
I wash dirt from my eyes in creek of joy.
My face dissolves into the flowing river
so I wake up somebody else today.
Her eyes are large enough to hold the lake
so I look in her eyes to be the sky.
We work together as productive team
so long I forgot I exist as you.
I give you my name so when they call me
you become the person they want to love.
She points to the owl in the broken house
so I fix the roof to keep out the rain.
My heart full of emptiness flows away
to fill the ocean with sorrows I lost.
The way sunlight gleams on water reveals
how much she loves me in silent contentment.
I do not need her to love me at all,
so I become the spirit she does love.
Her hair becomes vines heavy with gold grapes
that curl into hollow hope of my eyes.
Her mouth becomes pollen of apple blooms
that drip honey blood into my dry heart.
Her eyes become apples congealing rain
that spark thunderstorms inside my vast chest.
She places her warm hand on my worn cheek,
and smiles to break the habits of our days.
Though we have lived together many years
we are strangers close to the aching heart.
We stand together in the windy meadow
and invent words to describe our old love.
Turning back to me on the river shore
she makes strange face so I laugh with new love.
We float together buoyant on the stream
and become the clouds that reveal our names.
Together we stare in the face of death
but death fails to see us with empty eyes.
Far away she walks on the shimmering ridge,
shadow of sorrow against empty sky.
In darkness of night I see her bright face
but she vanishes when sun shapes the world.
In silence of morning I hear her voice
in breezes that whisper in apple trees.
I chase her shadow to the empty sky
and find her unmoving beneath high cliff.
I breathe words in her mouth to wake her mind
but her eyes stare blank, far beyond my face.
I hold her in my arms as she dissolves
to dust that sparkles on indifferent lake.
I design impossible map past death
so she can find her way back to her body.
The skull that smiles beneath her vanished face
talks to me in the wind so I know why.
Her ghost walks beside on signless road,
singing her despair into resigned faith.
© Surazeus
2018 09 23
The young girl on the bright city street
covers her mouth to conceal her desire.
Smog of her heart clouds the strange cityscape
where silent crickets wait at the night door.
She cannot see her hands in morning light
to touch the roots of trees that hide the rain.
She holds my hand while we walk through the park
and whispers she is spirit in the wolf.
I kiss her neck and smell her flowing hair
while she lies still and becomes the moonlight.
She grinds bones of her ancestors to salt
to sprinkle on the steak she grills for us.
Our two frail daughters transform into boys
who divide themselves into morning clouds.
From skull of their grandfather they carve masks
to play roles of characters they design.
The owl in the doorway gives key of light
that heals the wound it caused through alchemy.
Taking off her glasses on downhill road,
she searches for truth beyond perfect vision.
I want to make worlds from the wounds we hide,
she explains to the owl no one can see.
She heaps forgotten memories as stones
to mark the way back to the river tree.
She holds egg of the hawk in her right hand
and geode of crystal in her left hand.
She cracks them both open to find my soul
which pours over my face from broken dreams.
She forges her heart into the sharp axe
and chops down trees to build our secret home.
She holds my hand with pungent urgency
so I draw impossible map for her.
She will never be the ghost of my heart
for she is always somewhere in our house.
She is the idea of the swan whose wings
translate sorrow into the soothing tune.
From absolute beginning of the circle
we become one skeleton in pale fog.
We are flames of desire covered in mud
to open eyes inside words we might speak.
While we are alone together in peace,
ghosts of our ancestors float on the lake.
After digging in the garden since dawn,
I wash dirt from my eyes in creek of joy.
My face dissolves into the flowing river
so I wake up somebody else today.
Her eyes are large enough to hold the lake
so I look in her eyes to be the sky.
We work together as productive team
so long I forgot I exist as you.
I give you my name so when they call me
you become the person they want to love.
She points to the owl in the broken house
so I fix the roof to keep out the rain.
My heart full of emptiness flows away
to fill the ocean with sorrows I lost.
The way sunlight gleams on water reveals
how much she loves me in silent contentment.
I do not need her to love me at all,
so I become the spirit she does love.
Her hair becomes vines heavy with gold grapes
that curl into hollow hope of my eyes.
Her mouth becomes pollen of apple blooms
that drip honey blood into my dry heart.
Her eyes become apples congealing rain
that spark thunderstorms inside my vast chest.
She places her warm hand on my worn cheek,
and smiles to break the habits of our days.
Though we have lived together many years
we are strangers close to the aching heart.
We stand together in the windy meadow
and invent words to describe our old love.
Turning back to me on the river shore
she makes strange face so I laugh with new love.
We float together buoyant on the stream
and become the clouds that reveal our names.
Together we stare in the face of death
but death fails to see us with empty eyes.
Far away she walks on the shimmering ridge,
shadow of sorrow against empty sky.
In darkness of night I see her bright face
but she vanishes when sun shapes the world.
In silence of morning I hear her voice
in breezes that whisper in apple trees.
I chase her shadow to the empty sky
and find her unmoving beneath high cliff.
I breathe words in her mouth to wake her mind
but her eyes stare blank, far beyond my face.
I hold her in my arms as she dissolves
to dust that sparkles on indifferent lake.
I design impossible map past death
so she can find her way back to her body.
The skull that smiles beneath her vanished face
talks to me in the wind so I know why.
Her ghost walks beside on signless road,
singing her despair into resigned faith.
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