I sit here at this window
My eyes glazing at the scene, misting at the fog
I could talk to you of memories
Of diving head first into cement
Of being picked up and remade
Only to dive once more
I could tell you of bright eyes and dark days
Of black outs and white outs
Of angel's wings covering me in shame
Or is that protection?
This window is a figment
It is an illusion
No glass or bars will keep me from plunging into feeling
Or simply into the loss of it
As I sit here…
I could speak to you so silently you would only be able to touch my pain with your eyes
Of the anguish brought on by abhorrence
Of the agony felt like rain
Hard, Bleak, Callous
As it worms its way again into my life
Into my vision
How did he hurt them?
Why does the pain never cease?
Is she really the receiver of my forgiveness?
As I sit here…
I realize the lie
For I am standing.
Courage at my front,
Terror guarding my back
But I wield so much, or I suppose I wield nothing at all
The breath that throbs through my body
The kiss of existence every time I try to dismiss it
The demands of my heart as it is emptied of everything
Food, Hope, Desire
I only wish…
I only crave…
That as I sit here at this window
I would tingle with the conjuring of a fantasy of a Great Life
The one I have lived past and through.
The one I am in and beyond.
I would join in.
On twirling through endless time and air
Not thin but universal sky
Full of endless reliance and security
I would jump through no illusion but infinity
I'd peer down on all that Made My Difference
So many, but only five that I blame here
Not one in the same but found as a duo
One bold, sociable, electrifying
One soft, exhilarant, and profound
Two martyrs of a lost life; broken and worn, lifting above the trash
Another duo so unalike I would dare the sun and moon to be more different
A ninja with blond hair, without his skill of contending with breath
would I be sitting here now?
He approaches the window, eyes that rapture, a soul that reaches
So indescribable, only One can contain his entity.
Her eyes blue, one in a million spots of brown
As at age 45 she looks at me as a 14 year old
I'd love to hate her, and hate to love her
But I love her all the same.
As I sit here…As I stand here…As I lay here…
I breathe the breath of years of Home
As real as reality
I sit…I stand….I lay
And watch as the earth spins round and round
Right outside this window.