By MJ. Dally
I’ll walk beside you,
I’ll be your shadow of love,
just promise to shed the walls
you’ve built in your skin;
with grime, rust and heavy bricks
of pain.
I know life gave you people shaped scars;
and illnesses inoculated by their words
but that’s just one page of the book
of a thousand; the rest are bright,
if you dare turn pages with fingers
of brave forgiveness.
Grace the guilty sea with one more
of your chances ; open
yourself to the world, again,
it waits with cupped hands this time
and an apology as massive as Saturn.
It will take the wet tenderness
of your wounded soul
and drink it through its muscle
drying you like a child;
and to cry might be elevated
to being an option again;
A pacifier of an apology.
The rarest thing I know
is too feel redeemed;
It feels like feathers finally
bleeding out of yourself
into a sturdiness that lets you fly;
after you were blown out
your nest by fate’s angry winds.
Broken hearts are leaves with eyes
and mouths,
on a ghost tree of suffering
somewhere;
they taste redemption only
when the black tree lets them go
and they fall to a river of time
that carries them forth.
The leaves then learn to smile
and turn green again;
redemption comes in letting go.
I wish bridges had veins instead
of cables; so people know they
really should be travelling in retreat
to the right people, not places;
and I’ll wait where the bridge brings you.
I’ll wait till you are ready,
when you finally speak, your voice
will birth a god with lungs of light;
their breath will unknot our paths
when the sun is too cruel to rise.
You are not the pickle you made yourself,
in sour jars too tight for your flesh,
you are the jaman apples that drank
the earth’s sweet breast milk
and painted sad eyes with color
before you were forced
to jump into brine.
By MJ. Dally
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