Nothing can be the same now,

as I have passed the veil.

My eyes are wide and clear now,

and life begins to pale,

to the horror that confronts us,

the oncoming, ugly end,

that captures and controls us,

so we can never mend.

Open eyes, open hands to the world,

you love only the way a man could,

with reckless abandon,

Jesus fills you up and I-

I am cautious.

I am cautious like a woman,

I am cautious like someone who knows what she can lose.

Trauma haunts your very past,

and maybe deep at night,

but you are a savior, 

you can keep yourself busy with others' pain,

and not your own.

No woman is a savior,

we are mothers,

drenched in everyday suffering,

while you can drive out demons,

we fix the daily bread,

but who's to say we're less worthy?

For monsters come in many forms, 

and all kill.

Forgive me if I say no,

if I close my heart off to the poor,

the weary, 

the heartbroken.

I can't love everyone,

only those I think I can help.

Only those,

who won't drag me down with them.

tap tap tap,

metal heels against stone floor,

far from the forest, meadows, beaches,

where human soles once touched,

tap tap tap,

sound interrupts the band, 

we're failing to keep up with our elders,

who have held each other for fifty years,

tap tap tap,

when did we lose our access to romance,

knowing the ideal, the final goal,

but forgetting the steps to get there?

tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap,

when will we be as ancient as the linoleum tiles,

lining the parish gym?

tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap

to see in fifty years or so if we'll know each step we take.

There are so many things men don't know, Alicia thought, applying her red lipstick. They don't know what goes into the appearance of a woman.They'll notice my mouth, but not my primer, my foundation, my mascara.  She reached for her knife. They don't know what's under the surface either. 

You're not handsome, in the same way I'm not pretty,

I'll never talk about smooth skin touching and gasps at soft hair,

I don't love you for that.

I don't love for your smile, or laugh, or all the other things that happen in those self same gardens where the smooth skinned and soft haired girls cry after they caught their boyfriend and best friend at the Olive Garden together.

I love you for the furrow between your brows when you're thinking. The way you get so sharp when you try to dissect me. The way you question everything and not just to be right. 

I love you for how serious you get. So many people are afraid to be serious, but you'll go out and do it anyways. You talk about causes long since untrendy and understand dead men better than people knew them alive.

I love the way you look at me, as if to see if I'm impressed. I love the way you try your hardest to beat me and sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't.

I love you for the solid things, and not the fleeting kind. 

Freedom,

in the way where no one has a claim on me.

From my childhood, I've owed people,

my parents, my teachers, my friends,

and now my bosses, my banks, my government,

my nonexistent lovers.

So I hustle, I sell my soul,

and they whisper,

but I will be free,

any way I can. 

I found my life in the place all lovers know,

where we pause, coming back to ourselves, after being another;

here I found it. 

Wave after wave of limestone river,

in a grey sky, grey air,

homely reeds,

leading down to the beach, 

where dark sand meets a darker sea,

and divulges its secrets. 

Here is the truth; I waited for you there,

but after, I slipped into the water, naked,

'till the cold rose up in my soul.

Let salt carry me away to a distant time,

one where we live in peace,

one where you come to me, on the beach,

and we swim,

never fearing, 

the storm clouds,

awaiting on shore.