on the cusp of possibility,
when the rage surges, and only my brittle bones poke through
and i fall limp in your guile, not knowing the face behind the silents
and with that denial i tumble into a painless sleep!!
and through the murk of history
through the shade of the past
from you the same patters,
the same secrets,the same silents.
from me the same dance, the same steps,
and my eyes grasp the smoke and shimmer,
my eyes embrace your mirage, your fear of me seeing,
the fear of me touching
digging into the silt of sorrow and despair,
and peeling away the scabs of time till the
simple ooze speaks the tongue of epiphany.
yet sound brings no light, i am still forbidden to see you.
only your shadows that lurk in the tight constraint of skin.
I gently roll the moment and waves of time, and open
to sallow the tight ball of salt,
the bitter taste that has stung the flesh with fire and putrid breathing.
and this purgatory of October
cuffs my motion through this Halloween country,
and the chill and upheaval lick and gnaws my knuckled fists.
as the bubble of history swells then bursts
and i freeze rooted in the fall of red and orange leaves,
rooted in the earthy aroma of decomposing leaves,
and the sharp tang of drowsy sleep that the earth lingers in
and i find myself with the scent of apples, and pumpkins
and my injured heart hammers with unwanted haunting,
and my chest caves as it spasmodically gasps in this air.
and the tremble and vertigo floods the blood,
and again, i taste the salt, the bitter tang of my harvest, and i long for a never returning spring, a warmth sweet and filling
as the sea that i long for on this changeable October morning.
and i sigh, knowing that this salt, this sting of old new wounds, will subside, and slip below the surface.
yet the red and angry scars
remain, tattoos that no rub of time will erase.
and i will master the agonies, i will swallow the sorrow, and move from your time.
diminished, diminished by silents, diminished be illusion, of chunks of flesh lost diminished yet strengthened.
lessons masted, or at least tested.
but October mornings like this
the scent of change carries me beyond myself within my self.
and i taste the salt and breath in the earthy aroma of decay,
and impending slumber.
and i long for the salve for my slow healing wounds,
that a scant moment ago i thought
healed, and vanished
yet this October, this smell of Halloween has touched the hidden ache
that i am doomed to carry
and opened me wide to what i am, and to what i was , and will be.
that there is no change, only fear in your eyes and a unhappiness that taints your skin.
and the dark clouds of impending storms hold my eyes, as body trembles, fearing the fury and rage of the storms that i know will come.
but a deep calm pulls me inward and i know and understand that storms are only storms.
and i can and will endure them, that they in themselves cannot overwhelm me. and alone i will embrace them for what they are, and alone will emerge from this haunted time, this time of ghosts and demons
this time of monsters and ghouls, knowing that they are only costumes specters insubstantial, only costumes meant to scare and frighten.
I will pass through the vial of this Halloween and see the ghosts and monsters for what they are,
and i will travel this haunted land, this season of change i will endure the upheaval and storms of this October.
and in the rub of time reach the equinox and find a moment of renewal