the little morning waited for me to appear. the sun doesn’t rise without me. the little world slept while i boiled water. there was no song, there was me in the deep. black moment of under, where i lift my head knowing. she’s afraid to be seen isn’t she, this light. this clear morning she brings. like a fresh corpse still warm, we all look away. those lips were so perfect and now, i’m afraid. of who i’ve kissed, why i’ve done what i’ve done. all alone in the beginning, all alone. they wait for me. and the little sounds appear as life but i know it’s all just thoughts, thinking themselves back in line. in a sequence i can build from. a new morning, an understanding of this morbid frightful moment. the door will open and he will walk through it. my name will be called and i will go. the light will sneak through the window i’ve covered, the indestructible will rise in me like a weapon. i sit in the dark waiting, hours and hours. waiting for light. the parasites crawl up the walls and float in the air. i can barely breath without coughing. the message is clear but nobody hears, “get out of my body, get out of this house!” little words, fall from the ceiling. land in my mind and start moving. devouring any stillness that might have seemed real. i haven’t slept but have been sleeping for years. why do you want me. why are you here. i am just the inhabitant of this shell, i have no light to give you. food. dark and cold, i sit inside. holding what i have. not knowing what i have, but what i do seems to make sense to the plan. how i seem to have planned to control my own inevitable destruction down to the last ignored detail. how i seem to have entered a game i’ve created again that begins and ends with me always on top. how i have mirrors without faces looking back. voices without bodies that match. how i move in circles surrounding myself, from every point. i pull from the center. striving to lose this. lose this desire to be free. lose this loss. forget the rest of me. but nothing happens unless i’m there. and so like i said, the new morning waits for me whether i like it or feel ready or not. i live under a lot of pressure, carrying this body of mine. forward into the light, without fear of falling. down even further before night strikes again and i lose even the memory of your face. i once saw you. i live for your return facing until then, god in this little hole. pushing and gnawing at my soul to go back. “back where” i ask and nobody knows. “out of here,” is all that we can muster to imagine. and yet i know god isn’t real, not like this. disguised in my pretense and lust for more pictures. of myself being fearless on camera. and when i’m not looking back is when god as the burn marks appears and starts boiling. “you did this all for a name and a cover.” and what about the story of footprints in the sand and god’s invisible hand and the holy unseen body that carries me down the shore against all odds…shell, dead. bury me in your water. there is no alone without me. and so i’ve been waiting and taking my responsibilities very seriously. how to remedy disease, maintain perfect blood pressure, never grow old like the masses. not be a hypocrite sitting in church watching women’s legs move like spiders within me. tickles of hell, not here. not in front of god. confess, it’s very important to be pure in his eyes, eyes we haven’t seen and yet judge ourselves by. you know him right, the one blessing cursing and taking. only giving to the deserving who bleed extra because they can. who carry their own stakes and never hit back. who don’t feel hate or kiss dirty lips. everything he touches becomes pure that’s why he is who he is. always a man, in a woman’s sacred sad body. you don’t understand that everything is a woman. a woman suffering. she is me. god gives wounds and wombs and nothing else really. you are then allowed to do what you want with the rest. such as forlorn penises and knives with fingers that count. originally this was about being a shell, just a hollow hole filled with probability. like probably you don’t see me or know me. like probably you will fill me with you and i’ll look back and do it my way all over your face. can’t you see, the sun is watching us from afar as we approach the east with anxiety that we might miss another opportunity to be cured. like clouds disappearing from the sky, the water pulls the shell back into it’s vast unimportance. there is no surrender only retrieval. so i wait because that’s all i know. is that this time, i am really returning to you. not someone else who fits the description just to pass the interview. but the real one covered in the shells of the lost. the shore is a woman covered in that inescapable pain and the waves are her only answer- that we must give everything again and again without solace or solution- because that’s how god feeds an empty world made of light.
made of mother light. sharada devi