"The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry."
~ Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell To Arms



"Our lives disconnect and reconnect, we move on, and later we may touch one another, again bounce away. This is the felt shape of a human life, neither simply linear nor wholly disjunctive nor endlessly bifurcating, but rather this bouncey sequence of bumping into's and tumblings apart."
~ Salman Rushdie, The Ground Beneath Her Feet



Monday, July 23, 2012

Broken...

A coercive power is strangling my body
Blurring my mind
A mist paralysis my will and I am staggering like a blind man in a hurricane
No home or arms to be steadied by
To be comforted in
Does geography matter?
Do bodies make a difference?
I am bleeding and no tourniquet can stop the deluge
The dagger of betrayal has cut too deep and close to the bone is the wound
I want to crawl into a lover’s bed and close my eyes and be held for a very long time
Is that so different from death?
Comfort in a still peace while the sun warms cold broken bodies wrapped in the morning dew of refreshing?
Where do the answers come from?
My mind is so tormented with possibilities which plague without a way out of the turbulence
The every present ache of loss
Is…
The demon of my waking hours tormenting each step I falter to take
Then…
The night conjures memories and images mixing with dreams
 I turn deeper into the darkness of regret
No escape from the terror of the Noonday Demon!
Twisting and turning in the hand of God
A child on the floor of eternity wanting to be let go and return to a time before I was
Life breaks too many
I am broken



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