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you found your way back into my soul, how…

this long lost traveler, long lost love tore

waves were waved and goodbyes relayed

bags packed for a forever that would never stay

watched you leave, cried on your living grave


made my peace, learned what open love gave


lit a torch in my cave during heart’s bloody rain


yet let go of hope for rescue that never came


as time ran forward like a wayward deer


sprinting through forest hell bent on being free


earth spun in sunken eyes, drunk on toxic tears


jaded by pain, not to believe again, I disappear


blending into the mold in the meadow


tread upon by passing bedfellows


wondering where you flew


to see you alight, aglow


upon my torch raised


drop to knees

I blow it out
light floods in
lead me
home

~ Emily C. 10.20.17

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Girl on the Bridge

girl on the bridge
with a view to die for

(how many times crossed
without a pause…?)

she strives to finally inhale
curls her toes around cold cement

spreads her bare arms, dancing
her fingers in the electric air

below, the breathing city buzzing,
coming…going…living people

(can they see me?)

houses puffing out clouds
boats under raised bridges sail

bikes like red blood cells
their arterial pulse – in her heart – beats

her gaze kisses honeyed horizon
her soul
leaps

~ Emily C.

3.4.17

Stand Up Eight

Written last March, but relevant more times than I needed throughout this year and now as I continue to recover.

Fall down seven times, stand up eight, they say.

It is many many more than that for me…

but the tally doesn’t matter, only that you stand up

that one more time, that inconceivable millionth

moment of utter desperation, to crawl out of the dark,

to grasp onto something, the smallest speck of hope

just enough to hand-over-hand yourself out of the hole.

Today was another eight, another “she should be down,

but isn’t” day, a “what will it take to destroy her”  day.

An all-out, “I’m not going to be taken down by anything!”

day, an “I forgot how it feels” to be me day, but

“damn it, I’m going to fight back, whatever it takes!” day.

The old stories in my head, of destruction and rebirth,

lows and highs, and that ever-evasive middle ground,

which I’m beginning to cede may never exist,

all the while desperately wanting to believe it does.

They look at you…people…and they think they know.

They don’t. They don’t have a clue what you’ve been through.

They see a face, maybe a pretty face, and they think they’ve

got you figured out, pinned down in a frame, stored neatly

in a square box, that you’ve never had to fight, to struggle,

that you have it all, that nothing comes as a challenge.

If they only had a backstage pass, could see what I’ve

been through, they would truly “see,” their judgment would

cease, they would keep to themselves and mind their own shit.

Truth is, we are all human, we are all here to fight for something.

Nobody is immune, we are all related, of blood, of the same

wondrous existence, one humanity, despite our attempts

to implode it, and our planet from our own selfish faulty behavior.

What a world we would live in if we supported each other,

that when someone fell for that seventh time, that a hand

would reach out to guide us back for the eighth time.

In reality, we must rely on our own strength first, dig into

deep parts of our soul, go through the dark, always go through

the dark…so you can find the light. There is no other way.

~ Em C.

3.28.16

“Stand Up Eight” ~ AUDIO voice recording on SoundCloud

Island of One

Island of one
in a world of man
absent of all
nothing to land
my boat on
that travels from
far away times
searching for you
for solid ground
to settle my feet
in the sand of your heart
lie in the heat
of the sun of your soul
peel off my clothes
bury my mind
in your warm naked skin
that holds all of mine
with caresses of senses
that tickle my veins
sending shocks to my heart
leaving scars to say
that you’ve been here before
many times with your lore
of love that burns
all of my core
to smoldering ashes of lust
an ember sparked
sending fire back
to the start
where I launched this boat
searching for you
the island of one

to make it

island of two

~ by EC

3.12.16

“Island of One” ~ Audio

  

Origami Heart

Strung high on crystalline lines
along the heavens’ reach of sky
origami hearts folded with love
crisply dangle over land above

like prayer flags of the soaring soul
gently move when the winds blow
of passion amongst the air we breathe
a sigh or gasp can set them free

the soft brush of paper on paper
as the fragile hearts touch each other
like laundry on a warm spring day
out to dry the salty tears away

over time the hearts fade red to pink
splotched by raindrops from angels’ eyes
frayed at the edges from blustery days
and torn right in half by love gone astray

mine hangs on by a dainty thread
too much wind has made it dead
to fall with haste its deepest wish

to disintegrate until last fiber of me
v
a
n
i
s
h
e
s

~ EC

5.30.16

 

 

 

Nowhere

rolling road on Christmas night
sparse humanity in dimmed light
past closed and darkened doors
traffic lights’ automatic oversight
green, yellow, red — repeat
view from windshield grants peeks
stools, chairs upturned for cleaning
no one home, spare a few cuisines
Indian, Thai, a pub here and there
the sole glow of life in evidence
diners wrapped in their warm presents
laughter silenced from this distance
like a painting in a picture book, in motion
bartender tends to bar hoppers
food is fed to the lost noshers
driving for driving’s sake, late
trees wound with strands of bulbs
fast food restaurants with sad souls
choirs singing hymns on the radio
nowhere to go
nowhere to go
happy, though

~ EC

12.25.16