mccarthylaura
Once I was a perfect rendering of an artist. I slaved and struggled, I batted away demons in the night. My heart bled for my work and I was ragged and torn by rejection and time. Now I am nothing more than a human woman- I write and I sing and I am wife to a husband. There are ways in and out of everything, there are methods to our art just as there are to our madness. We are not bound by superstitious addiction to one route only-
Half a life ago I was a child. We were running through grass, barefoot and free. We were not bothered by the rain- the smell of wet wool lingered in the hall long after we shed our thick coats. I did homework and stayed up too late under blankets with flashlights reading stories. I had a best friend- you- and a favorite food and you and me, well we never planned to grow apart.
There are boxes
Boxcars,
Railroad memories
and dreams to sleep on-
Someone told me once,
That they were a hobo
and I was a princess,
A princess riding home
On a boxcar
Stuck in my square domain
Long hair flying out the cracks
Chasing the stars
as we ride on to freedom
With the onslaught of frost
the darkening of afternoon skies
With your sharp icy tongue
and my reluctance to retreat
How can one hope to meet the need?
How can one pray for love that connects the dots,
that holds the hearts is rips from their cages-
That will satisfy the hunger within?
We can't hold the heart
that hurts us
Long enough to heal it
so it doesn't strike again-
When somebody takes you
breaks you
and then sets you free,
cracked open to the howling wind
They know not what they do
The too tender brokenness from
their last somebody
Is still echoing in their bloody cracks
We can't feel
the pulsing wind
We call back
to one lost
From some
these steps
are futile
For some
these steps
lead home
Can we recall
a time when
we walked them together?
Brought forth by the expressionless eye
Came unto the world in hope and irreverence
Tied to the earth
And equally the sky by tethers of silk and gold
Come forth and know
Who you are and with whom you've come
We continually pride ourselves on our advancements in technology and innovation- what we have always failed to recognize in our ethnocentric imperialistic view is that the cultures that remain close to nature and connected to the interconnectedness of it all, would out live and outlast us all if power stations failed and we were left to rely on our senses.
They took them to feel free
They took them to uplift
They took them to fall off and test human flight
They were down under the shoes of the hopeless
Then they were on top of your greatest triumph
They told no one
They walked among you
They were up and you were sleeping
Walking into walls
Revert back
Begin again
You are hopeless
Says the jagged mind
There's another one
Start it up
Revert back
You are angles
You are not free
But here
Up and down
Maybe yes
Revert back
And walk out
Walk out of the walled place
Who said you had to live there?
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