perihelion

the frost has melted from deep within the dirt
underfoot
it is soft
footprints trace their way
through grass and mud

from the dried earth
green leaves press upward
bent low at first
anticipating that last frost
before they find the warming sun

roots grow deeper and deeper
with each tempting deluge
seeking to slake their thirst
grown larger and larger
teased and reaching downward

slow will be the unfurling of leaves
so slow as to catch by surprise
slow will be the putting forth of fruits
so slow as to be nearly forgotten
sudden will be the ripening

. . . . .

skin dried
near cracking
a thin white dusting
of salt
i could fetch a fortune
at the markets of old
scrape me clean
lick me dry

i cannot stop feeling
the ache in my limbs
overtaxed again and again
i cannot stop feeling

each time i swear i wont let myself
hurt
each time i know myself to be a liar
if i stop one feeling
i will cease to exist
i will end this struggle
there have been too many moments
of knowing where this all could end
but i am as yet incomplete
i have not found my balance
my nook my niche my duality my daemon

in the mirror we each take on strange poses
our faces inverted
made strange
so too shall be my other
waiting, offset slightly

i am not looking for perfection
but only a will
to give and forgive
a will to grace

god, please
do not leave me alone too much longer
do not make me bear witness to this torture
do not ask me to stand reaching out and raising up
my arms are tired
my eyes are weary
my feet are sore

let me lie back a while
in the sun.