a worm in sacred territory

I wasn’t anywhere but here and the clock kept ticking as I looked into your eyes. A swelling gray washed over us and the pyre had already burned our bodies to ashes in this slumbering hush. I knew you understood me- my mourning for the unswept tears, my grieving for the dead untouched…

my grave was in your eyes. My death was in your breathing. The tomb of what my mother gave and the weapons of my father. The source of my dying and the end of my known, you just sat staring at my secrets. A broken mirror sitting in the corner of this empty room watching you smile…you are full of what I can never be. So I close my eyes to get away, I clench my fists in sanction…

If only I could touch you, if only I could feel you…the agony of matrimony, death beyond my heavy shoulders, death beyond my bedroom shackles, death beyond my clammy skin-you are so beautiful to me…

I’ve been looking for you in a stain that won’t love me. I’ve been looking for you in painted bodies packed in ice. I’ve been looking for you in dried blood upon my pale skin. I’m slipping away and I don’t know where. I never want to leave you. A fitful door opens and closes but I can never get inside…

and the dismal clock keeps ticking and you don’t move and I don’t open. I’m naked, I’m white, and I’m cold. There isn’t anything but a wilted rose…

I don’t want to be a flower because they die.  I don’t want to be a baby because they grow old. I don’t want to love you because love kills…

and I’ve been to my funeral and the grave stone read, “Nobody ever loved me and now I’m dead…”

so I’m scraping and clawing, chewing my leg. This trap has tight jaws and your teeth are so broken. Look at your violence. Look at your rage. This isn’t a girl who will ever leave you, this isn’t a veil washed in your blood. This isn’t an uncertain boy. This isn’t a can of old worms…

everything rots inside the unsaid…

you didn’t have to tell me because I already knew. You didn’t have to show me because I already saw- your baby blanket in the trash- your little foot without a shoe…the undertow of baby bones and your mother’s dark hair churning…

so what are you without me and who is talking to the dead? A baby ghost, a wise old shadow, a turning feather in the breeze. So what are you without me and who is pulling out the knife?
A rusted bone un thrust, a razor with no strings attached, a mind that went nowhere…

I’m only saying that we never know whose hand we’re really holding. Is my father still alive?
I’m only saying we never know whose eyes we’re really seeing. Is my mother watching me touch myself? I’m only saying you can’t hide from me.
Is she an alligator beneath my skin?

I’m only saying there is only me and you…

and you are a blur and I am it’s haze. And you are a fire and I am it’s blaze. And you are a trickle and I am its stream. And you are a fantasy and I am it’s dream…

we’re going down where we can’t hear the clock…we’re moving through the thorns and thicket…we’re going deeper into seconds passed…we’re moving through the last goodbye…
and we’re not morbid and we’re not scathed…and we’re not anything we’ve ever borrowed…

we’re only here together now matching the light in each other’s eyes. We’re only here together now crying for the other…the one we knew before we forgot that our lover never really leaves. The one we pray for. The one we die for. The one who starts the clock. The one who stops time’s menacing pace…

the one whose face is everywhere with arms held out to me unmoving. The one I saw when you walked into the room…

and yesterday is a bridge and you are the one I cannot cross. I’m stuck in your halo like a flower in your hair. Amusing and confusing the lips that spread words. I have so much to say with these thoughts I arranged as I sit by the window and I stare at my life…

then she smiled and said, “your time’s up, come give me a hug.”

I’ve been around the block and I drove and drove and drove. I could not get her out of my head…
“She’s got me by the balls. I’m a worm in sacred territory”

no, this can’t happen again…

no, I’m not trying to make you laugh although your tongue is wagging…no, I’m not trying to break your fall although you need my cushion…

we could talk like this forever…

how you got hurt, how I got saved..but does it really matter? There isn’t a heart that’s big enough, not enough love in the world -to tell you that you’re everything I ever wanted and nothing I could ever have…

because God is a burden to me with expectations far too high…

so I’m sitting and waiting for his stock to go down and I’ll let you know when I’m rich enough to be immortal. I’ll let you know when I’m free enough to be myself…

as love waits in hiding like a germ.

Sharada Devi

4 thoughts on “a worm in sacred territory”

    1. I knew you were going to say that!
      And my reply is, “EXACTLY”

      you’re so incredibly pointed and round…
      like a golden arrow or a perfect puddle of mud…

  1. We cannot be here now, because we are only here now. what gets in the way? HER play…….just don’t look… vast streams of white birds against the dark clouds, heavy with rain. time to just get wet and walk on, but don’t look into the eyes of fools. Look down at the ground so you know where your going, we sing to breath. It’s a dirty world, don’t look. keep it clean in between. No need to touch so much, pull into your own heart and fly home to HER tree and climb it, hold on tight and let the wind answer. She is life and this life is IT. Hone down on the bone love dog.
    old dog flop, baba

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