Found This And Wanted To Share - Poetry.

[Kas_Can_Fly]

I suppose I don't really know what this post is for, but I really wanted to share this, in case it means even half as much to anyone else as it does to me, especially the last four lines - wow. (This is not mine, I found it here: [DLMURL]http://rachelmckibbens.tumblr.com/post/39689801729/finally-in-its-entirety[/DLMURL])


LETTER FROM MY HEART TO MY BRAIN

Its okay to hang upside-down like a bat,
to swim into the deep end of silence,
to swallow every key so you can’t get out.
It’s okay to hear the ocean calling your fevered name

to say your sorrow is an opera of snakes,
to flirt with sharp and heartless things.
It’s okay to write, I deserve everything,
to bow down to this rotten thing
that understands you, to adore the red
and ugly queen of it, to admire
her calm and steady rowing.

It’s okay to lock yourself in the medicine cabinet,
to drink all the wine, to do what it takes to stay
without staying. Its okay to hate God today
to change his name to yours, to want to ruin all that ruined you.
It’s okay to feel like only a photograph of yourself,
to need a stranger to pull your hair and pin you down,
it’s okay to want your mother as you lie alone in bed.
It’s okay to brick to f*ck to flame to church to crush to knife
to rock to rock to rock to rock to rock and rock.

It’s okay to wave good-bye to yourself in the mirror.
To write, I don’t want anything.
It’s okay to despise what you have inherited,
to feel dead in a city of pulses. It’s okay
to be the whale that never comes up for air,
to love best the taste of your own blood.


LETTER FROM MY BRAIN TO MY HEART

This house is dirty, but comfortable.
Behind each crooked door
waits the angry weather of a forgiveless child.
I cannot help but admire this horrible
power of mine, how each small thing
can become a death: the lost house key. A spoiled egg.
A howling dog. There is no prayer or pill for this.
It is a ruthless botany; I might as well
be buried in the yard. I have no one to blame.
Not the mother who sang to an empty cradle.
Not the Dog of Spite who bit my hand,
just this long-legged sorrow
who trails my every joy like a dark perfume.

You have my permission not to love me;
I am a cathedral of deadbolts
and I’d rather burn myself down
than change the locks.


- Rachel McKibbens, 2010

 

[Upside Down Eagle]

Its okay to hang upside-down like a bat, to swim into the deep end of silence, to swallow every key so you can’t get out. It’s okay to hear the ocean calling your fevered name

I have been wondering whether it is okay. Because I do this, but because I do this I hurt other people. And then I have wondered to what degree is it okay to hang upside down and swallow the key? To what degree must you take responsbility and attempt not to?

Nice poetry. Thanks for sharing.

 

[Kas_Can_Fly]

With all of it I don't agree that it's right - shutting off can be a useful survival tool and I know I do it far too often, it's something that I want to change the most and yet it's something I'm incredibly scared of happening. For me now that I'm starting (just) to be able to experience emotions and actually it's not all too great - for me or anyone around me, I think they preferred it when I felt nothing and acted how I thought I was supposed to. I certainly don't want to swallow the key - I like keeping my options open too much. I just related to a lot of it it's just well worded and I like the idea of writing to my brain and in particular the imagery of this:

I am a cathedral of deadbolts

 

[EvenStrongerNow]

Thanks for sharing this!