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Posted by SpiritWriter , 21 March 2013 · 440 views

rambling rambling poetry
The splash of the water-drop
is my cheek’s most pleasurable stain
The sting that brings the rain
splits across the threshold of my eye
This is the pain that reveals my privacy
and brings realness to the outside

The storm met with a sheet of bright light composed of many colors. They were the colors that would shine through the gems than hung from the ceiling, from the corners and the outside square that supported our roof and dangled. They were the colors that land on mothers face like the sun, but they would be swinging. I would stand inside of them sometimes and let them reflect on my arms and chest and sometimes I would use them to wash my hair.

Deeper I peered into the darkness.
There must be something alive here.

I closed my eyes and thought of the diamonds in the sky that held the power that born the sun. I opened them again and I too was opened. Into the blue there was rippling. There was a movement of life in the dark, in the slight slither, just a glint on its back, an ess-curve that disappeared like the lick of a lizard with a black tongue. I was compelled to follow it, to jump into the abyss. I imagined I would land with an impactful splash, that my body would be made as a bullet and I wouldn’t slow down until I willfully curled, spread out my arms and used my feet as flippers. My hair would wrap around me.

I would be blind and so I’d stretch out my hands, pawing carefully, inquisitively in all directions to find the thing that I had followed. I would  push myself forward and with each inch I would become more sure of myself. I would grab hold of whatever I found and make sense of it. I wouldn’t be afraid and that would be my power.

Almost as high as midnight I caught the moon winking at me, warning me of my father, who had warned me of this place. He’d think I’d wandered too far and because of him I got up from my crouched position, still looking down into the inky pool so very far down. It was still rippling.

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