"Make sure the love you offer up, does not fall on barren soil." --Dead Can Dance
I had been seeking someone to puncture my ego.
His non-chalant words and unreciprocated feelings did exactly that.
It wasn't as though his selfishness came out of left field and blindsided me.
The fact of the matter is
I knew.
I knew he couldn't really meet me.
I knew he didn't really have any desire to.
I knew the ultimate outcome of this dance.
A dizzying flourish here.
A steep dive there.
A grand embrace.
And a sweet caress.
Brief moments in time that would never endure.
There was no sustainability to be discovered in the
lilting refrains and the shrill calls of pure, primal desire.
It hurt, nonetheless.
A week prior, I ran away to the mountains in an attempt to free my soul.
Already, I was suffering.
"Why was I planting seeds in barren soil?" was the lyric
I kept coming back to.
"Farewell now my sister," he sings,
"Up ahead there lies your road
And your conscience walks beside you
It's the best friend you will ever know
And the past is now your future
It bears witness to your soul."
Amidst the pain and the tumult the aching questions
that I have spent half a lifetime running from
appeared clear as day.
What seeds am I hoping to cultivate
if I am continually planting and placing them
in rock-hard, barren soil?
What is it that I ultimately want to grow?
"For the wind cries of late
In the whispering grass.
Our way of life is held
In the spinning wheels of chance.
I believe in the ways of an older law
When we used to dance to a different drum
And we are changing our ways
Yes we are taking on different roads
Tell me more about the forest
That you once called home."
Home
at my core
and in my center
my immediate response
is to shout, yell and scream
Love
I want to grow Love
lovelovelovelovelovelovelove
so why then plant where only turbulence blooms?
Home
at my core
and in my center
my immediate reminder
is to cry, bite and shake
in fear and fury
I know not
feeling good
I only know
pain, sadness and discontent
its shadows are etched into my bones
its laconic lull pulls at my cellular memory
its putrid stench drowns my be-ing.
"Father teach your children
To treat our mother well
If we give her back her diamonds
She will offer up her pearl.
But I'm not bitter no I'm surviving
To face the world, to raise the future.
So why don't you tell me, come on and tell me
About the world you left behind.
Come on and tell me."
So I'm surviving to face another day
and I'm hoping to educate and meet
the fathers
who will uphold their end of the bargain
who will once again reclaim the wholeness
of be-ing that is theirs
ours
yours
and mine.
And I'm looking to get back those diamonds
because I want to offer up my pearl.
Ong na mo
guru dev na mo.
Ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm....
