rushing running like broken machines perpetually;
the chase within, further away.
silence is loud and unbearable we cannot stop. running.
I am done with this.
there is nowhere to get to.
running ourselves dry into bare bone
into skin into an old age lacking substance
where is there to get to?
the sweet dissolving into death.
I am done with this.
i refuse to rush run and serve my heart to Delusion, to a world that seeks to suck out strength meaning.
don’t talk to me about the wordly, the hardened structure of being that requires your soulful belonging.
i don’t want to belong to this, i won’t listen. i won’t follow.
talk to me about truth.
slowing time down like two lovers extending time with their lips.
slowing down purposefully until the days are long heavy;
musing days, days of breath, skin as present as ever, body soft life vibrating with trust.
talk to me about the invisible.
there is nowhere to get to.
i no longer offer myself to this perverse world;
illusion of being
to the soul-snatchers, bloodsuckers
if you come close
i will burn you
***
in darkness i am renewed
these bright lights diminish me.
i never bite into the happiness that blinds the fools
i conform but my heart won’t let me.
i am made
to break.
what moves through me now is not just my story but the story
of Mother
of Grandmother
of country; Woman.
My silence is grief-bearing
I open my mouth
god makes love to me
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