pushing off the ground,
I lift
to the edges of my toes.
to the edges
of myself.
my body stretching up
across the surface,
arms raised high,
my chest beating
with hunger
my finger tips,
lightly dancing toward the sky
the only jar of honey
that’s visible
sits High
glistening in the sunlight
that pierces through my windowOpen
in my kitchen. my vision
closing in.
I’m thirsty,
rushing in
from my last race.
my most recent dance
with the golden feather that dangles
right in front of me.
my next fixation, medal
all I want to see
all that I can do
to turn my vices into something
something that is new,
anything.
that is out of reach
that I can’t have or bee.
because when I do, it feels
as if the pain no longer bothers me
as they penetrate our chest
with plenty of reasons
to numb. hide. behind new success.
to choke my chance of loss,
so I never have to drink
from the honey jar.
my hands now
clenched quite tight
around it’s neck.
in a thoughtless stupor,
one eye gazed ahead
the other still.
as if to imitate the dead.
I want to climb more mountains
and see the world from the top
I’m happy
and on fire
unless I dare to stop.
and allow
the voices to challenge status quo
like who am I? who are you? how far
will we grow
for ourselves. and no one else.
like a falling tree
in the woods.
for no one to hear
no one to ever see
does it still count or happen
when we’re on our
own.
or is it only through connection
that makes us not alone.
I see you. and you see me.
and we work to see that we are seen,
fighting for the other side
we turn our side
ignoring limitations of our minds
as we find our yes. by saying
no.
and we find our love
through openness
and choice and not without,
a willingness to be
alone. because we find some faith
in what we discover
when we know ourselves
freedom.
to be and to be come.
take me off the shelf
and never stop. hanging on. despite
some bloody falls.
lush blue skies break up my gaze
as I groom my garden,
outside my kitchen window
Reys and Reflections 