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Do we hide our souls in things to keep them safe till after our hearts leave us? Do we always know that that will happen? Is mine hidden in the dry, powder-white-brown blades of grass I remember stabbing my feet on in summer? Or in those cracked hot pavements? Or the bleached-baking tar roads gravelling in the light & dark? Maybe in the hot sand, sinking away as I pushed up that same dune for the hundredth time, or in the broken barnacles stabbing and cutting while I breathed the salt and water deeply, into the lung hollows under my heart? Can we loose our souls through our feet by accident? Did I hide a part of my soul in that sagging, rusted fence that I never forgot seeing those huge bugs with the unrealistically long legs crawling through? What a strange place to hide a soul. & what about in those white flowers? The ones with the egg-yellow centres that hung heavily at my sister's front door & I never learned the names of after all those years because you don't have to call things that are close? (It's funny how I remember most things best with the souls of my feet and some things only with the backs of my eyelids) Maybe I just left my soul in the air. Hanging like the prayers of a thousand years hang in the Notre Dame; like a cloud of pollen dust being blown from the field into the forest, slowly, still visible with the other lost souls bumping up against each other there. & Maybe that's where all souls go. At the end. ... I look for my soul more now; now that my heart has grown stronger & harder. The softness of it is rarer & more beautiful to me. From 'Things' in Homeland
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My whole body is grey. & my face. Darker. ... What do you have when you have no more hope? ... I you are lucky, you have a reason. From 'Grey' in Colour grey.html
Es geht auch ohne Hoffnung.
Nachdem der Hoffnung gestorben ist, wird alles ruhig. Irgendwie, habe ich was schlimmeres erwartet. Schmerz. Tränen. Ein tiefen, dunklen Loch. der Tot. Ist aber nicht so. Nach der Hoffnung ist alles so wie vorher. Nur in schwarz-weiß. Grau. Was machst du wenn du keine Hoffnung mehr hast? Du machst weiter. Einatmen. Ausatmen. Es tut genauso weh wie vorher. Nicht mehr weh. Nicht schlimmer wie mit. Was hast du wenn du keine Hoffnung mehr hast? Du hast ein Grund. Wenn du noch da bist, ohne Hoffnung, dann hast du ein Grund. Und wenn der Grund dich alleine tragen kann, dich und dein ganzes Leben und dein ganzen Kleinkram und die Sinnfreiheit ... Wenn dein Grund unter der Last hält, ohne die Hoffnungsstütze, ohne Aussicht, ohne Blende, Dann hast du dein ewige Leben gefunden, glaube ich. Es geht auch ohne Hoffnung. Der Grund bleibt. I think I've found my heart. I'm not sure yet. Not completely. I don't recognize it. I looks different. Completely. It looks strong. Beating. Not erratic and wild and too soft. Steady & Strong. It looks solid juicy meaty. Like muscle, only monochromatic. I haven't figured that out. Why is it black and white now? When it used to be red and bloody and dripping? I think its mine. It seems to know me. But I don't recognize it. I wonder if it might help me laugh again? from 'Soft' in My Heart september-23rd-2019.html Like falling on rocks. Slippery, wet rocks, smelling of slimy seaweed & broken barnacles with the water swirling around them & coming in and going out too quickly. Sharp scratchy places that make you bleed, So that you wonder what you're doing out there & you remember clearly seeing how beautiful it looked from the quiet beach & how you thought it would be better to stand out there closer to those waves. This is how we learn not to go out to every hard place that sparkles in the sun. The fear of death will do that for you. ... I am sure I have believed that I'm most afraid of people. But, perhaps, people don't scare me as much as they should. Not enough for me not do go out into the hard sparkly places. I can't feel my heart.
I can't feel it beating. I feel my legs, heavy and hurting from running. I feel my eyes, burning from staying open and crying too many tears. I feel my breath coming in hard and going out easily. Like it doesn't want to come in at all, only leave. I feel my throat, tight, not letting my voice out. Not letting me scream. My whole body hurts. By this I know that I am not dead. But my heart is still. I hear nothing. No heartbeat. I must have lost it. While I was fighting my deamons. While I wasn't paying attention. Why can't I remember the moment? The last thing I remember of it, is the last thing I heard it say before it went quiet. It said: Let go. ... But I didn't let go, did I? I think I don't understand yet how that works, what that means. & now its gone & I don't feel it beating & I don't know where it is. ... One day, I will wake up with my heart back in my chest & the darkness will be over & my heart will shine again & be new & old at the same time & I will wonder about this strange dream, without it. Why do I do it? Why must I love? Can I not stop? I must stop. running. Stop running to and away. Stop running. Stop. Walk. Sing. Eat. Pray. Breathe, again. .... Love, again. from 'Neverendings' in Goodbye Songs & Thank-you Notes Da hören die Lieder auf, das Herz kann dann nicht mehr singen. Da hört sekundenweise alles auf außer dass was weh tut. Es tut weh im Herzen. Wie geht das? Wie kann’s passieren dass ein Mensch sich so verliert daß die Herzen anderer Menschen ihm egal sind? Ich hab' schon längst gelernt ‚Scheiß drauf!‘ zu sagen. Ich bin schließlich so aufgewachsen; mit der Angst, mit dem Verbot, mit dem Tot in der Nähe. und es ist schon damals nie egal gewesen, aber ich hab' gelernt so zu tun als ob. Mit der Angst genauso zu leben wie ohne. Kein Unterscheid, damit du nicht aufhörst. Alles so wie vorher. So, als gäbe es keinen Tot Keinen Hass Keine Angst. Weil wenn du dein Herz verlierst, Wenn du aufhörst zu lieben, hast du von vorn herein verloren und bist schon tot. Und so bist du am gefährlichsten (für die Anderen), weil die Toten ist das egal wie es denn Lebenden geht. So wie die ohne Herz. Du darfst dein Herz nicht verlieren. Es ist das Wichstigste was du hast. Auch für die Anderen. Von Homeland I couldn't love you because of my fear. Everything I ever learned growing up taught me that I couldn't love the children of other Gods. Other gods were wrong & Dangerous. And so I feared you, even as my heart accepted you. And then I lost you in my fear: drowned you out. Buried you under prejudice and preconception, lit the match & ran. Too close. I didn't run far enough & like Lot's wife; I turned to look, & there you were, burning & it was my fault. & I'm sorry. & I know I can't make it better by saying it. But I want to say it, 'cause it makes me human again & you not burning & me not turned to salt. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. From 'You' in You, Me & the others You betrayed me. I trusted you and you told me he would love me, but he didn't. He just held me. And that was enough for you, but not for me. I needed more. I needed the promise. I needed the hope and the future and the honor. And he didn't honor me. He held me and then he let me go. Left. Just left. Not saying he was leaving. He just stopped coming. Left me. You poor silly heart! You really believed it, didn't you? You believed he would love me. You did. He didn't. What do we do now, my heart? You don't really know much, do you? What do I do now with what you tell me? Trust you? Laugh at you? Ignore you? --- I must heal you now first because you are broken. Heal you. We'll do that first. Then there will be nothing left to do. from 'Broken' in My Heart |
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