Emily Burns
finding grace
My generous hands
forgot how to pray. I watched the butterfly rise on strong winds hoping that in the opening and closing of her silent wings I might remember. My heart is vacant. The words all wandered off and I've been searching- for what I can't name. Hands wide open and waiting. My knees tremble- ache-to please again. But my hands won't remember and the words won't come back. possibility
I sacrifice myself
on the seat of possibility but only when the wind blows strongest. I was born to serve. You never wonder that I am so easily found only that I wander so quietly away. non-sense
somebody's in my head again
stretched out between those two earholes they've done been in there for two days maybe more don't know what they're lookin for i keep all the shiny stuff put away with the butterflies and the spiders webs and my thoughts they all wear different languages the kind i talk in my sleep and you won't know them anyhow you haven't met them too close before somebody's in my head again pushing,pushing straining, yearning and i wish i knew who it could be not where i thought i was going
i used to dress my words up in all their sunday glory
before i sent them out into the world squeaky clean and sunday morning i was determined to let my little light shine forget a blue period the next phase was all about boiled down to the bare bones honest pretty didn't have a consideration or private but my words met metal then the weather turned wet and i sobbed along wringing my grief out of loose pages and you still stopped by and sometimes you'd even sing along then i prayed to be taller to stand straighter to be more of what i am i got lazy and lined literal words up all in a row i was lauded for creative cause everybody knows things like that can't happen Shatter
I think
I might just s h a t t e r my hands tremble my chest aches my vision is dark just as if someone has pulled the veil sometimes i think my existence is so very cluttered that i can't muddle through what would happen to all the tiny little shards o f g l a s s if I fell? fear
the sharks are circling
my thoughts have big teeth 
|
Maybe
I stopped singing siren songs
some time ago. My voice faltered. My heart skipped notes til I forgot all the words. No more songs. When I am one again, I will speak the words sweet and slow. And, maybe, scrawl the gracious invitation on an elegant card with all my best letters. still
I am still waiting
for another shoe to fall Because loving you was always too easy And the sun still lingers where you smile seduced
"maybe nothing"
your words ran away with me this morning maybe it was the fog creeping in through open windows til I surrendered maybe my imagination was seized strongest by the first words I met on waking maybe I dreamed you only to wake and hear you whisper stay close Yearning
The hills lay raw and bare.
Unbound breasts heaving in the gray mist of early morning. I wish I were the hills and this car you're driving was a strong, slow hand snaking around my own loosed curves. I want to be crossed by your barest elemental energies-- moved by passion’s own embrace. I want to stretch and reach the sky and stretch and touch the dirt and feel each resonant-twinge in between. I want to be filled with the light and the heat of a new day-- just as the valley after the fog is burned away. I want to feel the vibrations of thunder deep in the middle of me rumbling of something resembling change again and again and again until the light is extinguished. Then I will breathe deep and slow breasts heaving raw and bare in the gray mist of a hillnight. self-portrait, maybe
some of those vital statistics are undeniable
i may be five eleven and a half but i generally round the number down (my son exaggerates me into the six foot range) my eyes are brown and my hair but someone who craves my voice may tell you that they never notice either age changes, not year by year but moment by moment wisdom sometimes measures me a hundred or more and joy may number me a child with shining eyes i can accomplish temporary feats of domestic talent sew a quilt to keep you warm bake a cake to keep you fed but my voice accomplishes phenomena that defy description i make miracles sometimes when folks aren't looking nothing as tall as a skyscraper something less tangible and ordinary as light or healing my size may be slight i may be timid or bold depending on the weather storms wither clouds focus i had a vision for where this was going when i started maybe someday i'll get there |
