Are We Looking or Listening?

The problem here:
Blade beneath surface,
Severs bonds between
Calmwater depths and roiling waves —
Those ropes that anchor flesh
To something other,
Something deeper.

On a stage,
Under spotlights,
Two women pour out souls–
Sweet-voiced birds
That swoop and reel.

Heart rides melody,
Turn with tears
As you bring out a compass
To chart
Perceived imperfections.

Must be why
I stare at the line–
The number–
The dimpled flesh.
Surface measurements.
Haul up an anchor
And cry mad with seabirds.

Perfectly drawn figures
Subjected to an
Ever-focused lens
That reveals
Structural defects–
A nose misshapen,
Eyes not quite right-sized,
Skin too white,
Skin too dark,
Skin too marked.

My ship is rocked,
Telescope on the horizon.
Above me, dark-eyed angels
Obscure the stormy sky.
But birdsong swells.
And below the surface
Floats the scar
And long-held fear
Of judgment.


About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

Trackbacks / Pingbacks

  1. Creative Every Day, Part 2 « Looking for Roots - January 11, 2010

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