a raindrop falls like death on this bed

One year felt like forever. Swipe and all the demons fell. I took a snap shot and I sent it to you, the best day of your life. A dream. A mind knocking comet. A series of whimsical drawings all meant to keep us safe, but we kept slipping, falling through the cracks. Another purchase, perhaps a diamond. A vortex for you, a long wild howl. The wind rips through these pages on it’s way to hell. To find me, to beat me, to keep me safe from you. A love locket wrapped around a rear view mirror. A bent shoulder of sadness and wrath. How many children can I send into the dawn without weeping. I miss everyone from my lonely alley in this bad place. But she kisses him anyway and he never stops trying. And the walls bleed and everyone keeps getting hotter. By the way the morning was tipped, by the way my storage was full. I couldn’t fit anymore into this body. I sag and I stoop while the birds land and branches break. I had lined up the words, choked on the smoke. I had freed all the wicked. I had blessed that year in the places you didn’t see. Where you didn’t look. Why I don’t like my picture taken. Ghosts get out, the strip gets worn. A yellow summer flower, an unseen shooting star. My silence for you, like how we mourn for the dead is more like how the water freezes and the swan gets stuck, forever in a painting looking like she’s gracefully still. When inside she’s ice, when inside she’s burning. A fire from the gods, legs broken from a steel frame. He never looked where he left the keys. The keys to the castle, the dead box of sunshine. A moon, a season of pain. The axis of brain matter swollen and hard. She is a witch and for the most part a serpent. He would rather she disappear and be inside what got left. She never entered that page, she never sat on that wall. She was alone, burning photos of the dead. Haunted and in love with a dream of nostalgia. Blow out the candle, a little girl once lived there. Did he ever see where she left all her heartache. Back way behind me, freezing and cold. White, like a goddess perfectly poised. I can dance like a leaf in the wind. I can glide down the window of tears. I can see him inside looking, for her in that forest. Again, once again to be brave. In the face of the most beautiful girl I saw anguish. In his eyes I saw the morning born from a long winter of snow. In the words I found nothing but more pictures to take of the dream, his old silver eyes. Her bloody carcass of rags. A scar way too long, sliced down the middle. They ripped everything out for the babies to see. Through the flames of the forgotten, ghosts that fell through, deep brine of hell flesh, I drink and I eat. While I pray to the pain to set me free from your loss. And the window was opened at last. The swan I’d been watching was carved from the glass. The boy the little boy with his bow and his arrow was now the king of destruction, her new salvation. And demons were everywhere either fleeing or breeding. And I was churning and rocking deep in the air made of water. There was a sky filled with words we’d rather not say, where and when God speaks. When we know the only answer is death. We get down quickly and we cover our heads, but I didn’t. I watched him not see me anymore. And wished I was somebody else. Because that’s where I went in the dream of her body. How she aged and grew poignant but instead felt like a shadow consuming the one she’d made king. Until her castle crumbled and this old world died, with me inside dreaming at midnight of a night long ago, forgotten but held deep oh so deep between us, this unfathomable swan we could have become. The night goes on. The night goes on. My sharp fingers type, my eyes become hooks. My tongue is a fork. My skin has invisible words written all over it. About where she went, who she loved. How death tried to burn her but it couldn’t. That’s how far down I go, even where no fire reaches. But these roots, these roots are filled with these stories that bring us here. To the tree that catches everything like a widow’s web and wraps it and seals its fate. But I remembered you still, and I lifted you into these branches to hold me like the earth holds the sky. Of course it was farfetched because we’re all reaching, for the right words to say. For God’s hand to guide. The child back to beauty and youth. The old witch takes everything into her womb, stirring the cauldron and cursing the dead. The only thing I know is that you were so light I could barely feel you breathing. I am enchanted by this contradiction. 

This Is a paradox, mice have chewed holes in everything. I have been abandoned in my dream by those who know no other way. I cried, “God help me,” but God didn’t come. I carried a small girl through the long corridors and streets looking for you but you never came. You stopped looking for me. Night was coming and I was lost. All the humans here had jagged rotten teeth and were deformed. The children were wicked selfish and cunning. I had given my power to you who could not know what to do but go back to the room where the angry man stayed on the bed- riddled with holes under a blanket of diseased animals. I realized I was alone and in danger. My girl, though so small- was heavy. The hungry humans were starting to notice me and gather in groups. Their breath was the smell of rotting flesh. I didn’t even know it was a dream, all of it- even before I knew I was the death in their bodies. You’re far away and I’m waiting…though I know you never could have come. It was always me with these creatures. Yet my mind still rages with hope where there is none…so I still write to the leper inside me, because I have nothing left to do but float far away to another world and leave this old body behind. But my girl, this little yellow summer flower I carry, what will become of her once I’m gone…

Even from these pages she tosses and turns. Dreaming of swans and how they lift their wings over her body. Invisible, the halo in the water. Even in this dark night she glides, cold and white. Calling through the mist and trees for the one that haunts her. Even from my words she recedes through the letters into another dimension. A heaven not far from here where silver stars are joined by strings of pearl and the moon floats just like her on the water mirror. Below us is a door, underneath me, I drag an anchor made of stone. I am chained and bound.
Invisibly like every divine bird who must stay here for us to see the beauty of God. Even in this world she dances inside her nightmares the way a swan might dance with a stream of light. She floats like a deity inside another world right in from of me. Silent and smooth. I have touched her feathers wide awake. I have listened to the rippling music of yearning. She calls, always calling and nobody hears. How quiet is the majesty of the moon and her muse. How lost am I in her bondage. To this aching and circling. Searching for her God long ago. She remembers everything before he left. A raindrop falls like death on this bed. Sharada Devi

3 thoughts on “a raindrop falls like death on this bed”

  1. I search for the point-

    your face.

    My finger slides off it as a fiery comet’s tail, in my mind. The diamond spins away my feeble attempts. Turning me into the gift we wrap. 2 snakes.

    Echoes, reflections, 2 birds in one place.

    “What can be said of my heart.” Surrounded by cackling visions of light in dark. Of me, and the pain of perceived distance. It aches my heart to surround you with my voice. Flames of God that disappear for you, to see the tree you made me. Colors going up to a star that spins quiet, Swan Star. Reaching out elegantly, to bring me, sliding across ice, melting. What else is there. Empty rooms, places, mistaken.

    Will you lay me down, in this ring of fire. Will you lay down, in this still space. My heart would break me, if you would stay.

    The white horse, given by your breath, beats in my chest. Now, listen close

    https://youtu.be/0KrmxavLIRM

    1. this is very beautiful, mystical.
      through the silver quiet morning,
      words born from the dark,
      where nothing hides…
      only waits to be heard.

  2. ways and means and methods
    winters bone buried shallow giving up the ghost
    suspended for a season arriving soon to meet a warmer moon
    a tunnel through the starkness, a bridge to the sun
    fire and ice, the lengths that we must go to
    lead to the edge of reason, i leapt into audacity
    ways and means and methods
    loving god is not a concept, but a lifestyle.
    eyes wide open in the dead of night
    coping with ordinary madness
    the level of absurdity measures out the dole of eccentricity
    an antidote designed to charm the birds off of the trees
    inventing allusions, the patience that it takes to make it through monotony
    the inexplicably magic of an un-busy day
    noticing delightfully the way the double letter words spill upon the page
    it’s later than you think said the approaching dawn.
    a chosen birth, brought back earthward by the gravitational pull of karma
    “ brought down here by the density that we carry “
    ways and means and methods…

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