October 18, 2012

I do not ask for much tonight




I wanted to just come home tonight. Close the door and leave the weather behind, like the saying goes. Smell dinner in the kitchen, and let my arms land on your body like two tired birds on a familiar perch.

 

I would have given up words for the evening, and not missed them. I would have sent depth out the window like a runaway curtain in a drafty hallway, and kept only the surface of us. Smell. Touch. Heat. Motion. The intersection of our gyres, and the explosion that we set off. We do not have a half-life, you and I.

 

I would have shed the doctor’s office-tainted clothes and slipped your black sweater over my head. Your fingers would have found a shortcut to my shoulder through that little tear in the neck, the one that has a purpose now.

 

I do not ask for much tonight.

 

Just for an ocean to freeze over so that I could slide across it like an ice-age Bering Strait.

 

Lay my head between your chest and your belly and feel your fingers remove my hair from my face, strand by strand.

 

Press my ear against the pulse where nerve meets even keel, and have you swipe the vapor of longing off my skin like that night you drank my tears.

 

Feel that effortless othering of our bodies’ natural fit. Have you kiss me like it was a crime, as if we were prisoners stealing one last drop of life before dawn.

 

Be rocked into sleep as you played music on my spine and gently tapped a beat on my ribcage. Have your black wings envelop us both while we have angelic dreams.








10 comments:

  1. Astonishingly beautiful Chris...thank you for that tonight...I needed it more then you will ever know. It was as if it were the very Song of your SOUL so beautifully sung through the written word. And tonight it has quieted the angry beast inside & helped heal some of the wounds...I'm so grateful (and happy for you).

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    1. Dear Thormoo,

      It's comments like these that remind me why it isn't a private little notebook that I scribble these in... When something this personal and intimate touches the nerve of another human being, no matter which segment and on what level, it makes me proud and humbly grateful to be able to speak out loud. You know that some of your own posts have made me feel the same. Thank you for this. Take care and get those bats out of your Serenade! ;)

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    2. Often when a person is deeply wounded and scarred emotionally they pull back and withdraw...physically, emotionally, psychologically and spiritually. You have read and commented on many posts where I touch on this phenomenon taking place in my own life after the SA. I had become afraid to FEEL...it just seems to risky and though I know I am doing it, I will not allow the REAL ME (WHO song!) to come through.

      Reading this post last night, then Murdoc's response and another from you...well it gives me a privileged glimpse of two folks letting it RIP, being real, being amazingly TRUE. This exchange is indeed so personal that I feel as if I am reading something I shouldn't yet the two of you willingly share what you feel and who you are. Takes tremendous courage and/or a great BIG LOVE.

      For a person who struggles like me, witnessing this is an honest to God GIFT...of HOPE. Perhaps one day I can give KIM ALL that I am, all that I once was and yea...ALL that I will EVER be. That is what you create here with your posts from the SOUL.

      It's Fucking BEAUTIFUL...

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    3. ...and one more humble bow from me to you, T. Thank you.

      You know, I read that blog post of yours where you referred to one of my posts and how the intensity of what I was expressing got you wondering about your own experience of/with love in your life. I worked myself up into a frenzy trying to formulate a response that would do it justice, and then I thought myself into missing the moment. My bad :)

      Truth is, I still don't have a good response. It's a beautiful mess of scratching at old scabs and taking that leap of faith, daring to accept the gift but never diminishing the trials that made you who you are, as well as accepting the other person with all of their past, present and hopefully a future together. It's scary and divine, threatening to the ego and more than you ever thought you would be. It's surrendering to surrender. And that, j'pense, takes time. Give yourself, and Kim, time and your soul will know.

      And yes, it is utterly personal. But I cannot think of anything more beautiful or worthy of sharing with the world :)

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  2. You have brought an old soldier home. My goodness, how easy it is to lean back and rest upon your words and ideas. Time and space and condition and past all seem to suit you well now (even if your boots are caked with dirt). You have risen, are rising. And isn't that lovely? Christ you have earned it. What a privilege to watch you find, test and keep testing your wings.

    "And then sweet fish tail into monster truck of shame.
    Carved out of soap and steel and clay and salty vein.
    You are the first to look away, and against me, shake the squirrel out of your tree.
    Blind, get dressed and go outside,
    your arms are open wide,
    florescent to the sky,
    his arms will open wide,
    all that you see is..."

    http://youtu.be/qYTQGxMqFO4

    My goodness,
    imagine,
    and I live,
    a love so purrfect,
    and set,
    upon stars and light and shadows, and waking dreams.

    Tonight, a man hungrier than me, told me where to find free food. He was proud and his boots were twice the weight of mine.

    And my God, I listened and was grateful. I am hungry, right now as never before, for love, touch, quiet tears against warm skin, hands entwined, fingernails gently dragged down spine, heat transferred as bodies dance while dinner is being made, giggles and laughs as something so easy blows up in your face and draws out genuine connection and real, deep love. Love. Is there anything more or less that truly deserves our attention?

    Your words and mind have me,
    my full attention.
    -Murdoc.










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    1. Dearest Murdoc,

      Methinks that, by the time these black waters are traversed once and for all, I will have written not only an ocean-themed dissertation, but an Anatomy of Longing to accompany it. It is dissecting me fingernail by fingernail, salty vein by salty vein, cell by cell. Tear by tear.

      Me also feels that this last Once Around the Block has been nothing but dirt-caked boots and arms open wide, clipped wings and mangled cuticles healing and regenerating, led by a ravenous hunger for love. Meditation workshops and psychologists may fiddle what they will, but I see no getting past this connection. Not now, not soon.

      Yes, it is that easy. Don't let go.

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  3. As always your writing is poetry.

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    1. Thank you so much, Phil. I hope all is well with you. Will be replying to your e-mail soon.

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  4. Reading posts like this make me feel foolish for posting the profanity-laced drivel that I do.

    So clear, so raw, so real. Wanting, needing, aching, desiring, having a place to be.

    I also adore that song. I really liked the Abbey Road version. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WQrbdoj3bfw

    The line that sticks with me:
    "But you ain't never gonna shake
    this sense of sadness".

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  5. Hi Steph, it's great to have you :)

    The distilled, raw-er Abbey Road version would have better suited my mood in that post, but then people would have had to listen to Ray ramble on about watching TV into oblivion and go WTF :) That line resonates with me as well. It kinda sticks out from the rest of the lyrics and always makes me twitch a little.

    Profanity is totally cool, as is your blog, as are you. Keep doing what you're doing. Hope everything is going awesome in your new place.

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