Photo from Woodstockings.
I met a man in the desert yesterday
Of far greater years, eyes glistening like hot coals
Amongst boulders, still pools, stretched cowhides—his crystal palace.
I asked if he had a lover
And he looked at me, dead-on, and remarked,
“The divine did not present me with a partner in this life, and believe me, I wanted one”
I felt my skin turn on fire
And thought,
God, I hope that’s not me.
This woman, so endowed with gifts,
Fists full of dreams, songs, and poetry—
What is it all for, if not for love?
Everyday I must cool the fire of my yearnings
Through the expression of these gifts
So I wonder if love’s withholding
Might be a mechanism to fuel my inspiration
Still, I ask that it won’t be lifelong.
Trust that I am content to be alone,
I go to shows and sway my body to the music
And see the stars imprinted under the black of my eyelids
I take myself for drives
And dissolve into dizzied passing landscape
And spin myself the mantra that the world is my home.
I soothe my own fears
I know my place in the cosmos
And I cook a damn good meal
But is it too much to want to hear a man whisper baby in my ear
At the closing of the evening?
I never wanted that
Until I became too familiar with this sullen, fragile hour,
When primrose sweeps velvet curtain over the sand—
A time that seems to dissolve my defenses.
So for now, I’m star-crossed alone
Maybe I’ve drunk too much of the Kool-Aid, ingested too much Shakespeare
As much as I try to remain detached,
This zen monk
Who feels nothing,
An empty vessel through which all of life flows,
But does not catch,
I am still a human
Complex and confused
I feel everything,
And I want to be loved.
Still, I want a love that comes to me
Not teased from stone
Not pulled upon a string
But one that walks towards me of it’s own accord
In great swaggering steps across
This torrid land
Where it’s sung that “freedom rings”