It Happens

It happens all too darkly, deep inside.
Graven in the shadows of archetypal imagery.
Birth into a life that ends in death.
A hierarchy of feelings in transition.
Sea level to the heights, and then
an utter fall into the depths.

Great emotions, sweeping tides.
Turned upside-down, we seek the wise.
Dark, the witness spent on such forgiveness.
Desperation leading into abysses
that still remain unmapped.
Searching for a glow, a light;
still finding shadows looming
in such fright.

Waiting in forever, for the angel to return.
Trusting in the timeless without terms.
Seeking out a quiet space. Invisibly
enduring all the grace that darkness brings.
Never quite allowing that huge scream
to spin within reality. You watched
as that last bridge was burned to ash.

Simple sorrow, complex thoughts.
A dampness to replace the drought.
Multiples of tears that seem unending.
Every thought another solemn sending.
Wondering where life had gone astray.
Holding, ever holding, that fantastic
fear at bay inside yourself.

Yet still, your soul would delve
much deeper - to the core of Self.
Source of dreams and all the many
green and growing things of life.
Imagination escalates the flow.
Unaware, the riptide gathers
power to itself.

Memories of joy that surface,
whisper through the pain.
Why is it that it always seems to rain
just when the hearse bequeaths
boxed corpses into burial's domain...?
A moment comes, amid the reverie.
Pure and clear and fiery at base.

Taking all that once seemed wasted,
creating newborn forms. A Goddess
hovers over all that had been torn asunder.
Weaving yet another tapestry.
She can't be seen through human misery.
And yet she tends to mend the ends
into a new beginning.

Scholars of an ever-ancient time.
Still defining life within the old, archaic lines.
Nodding off to sleep, the dreams begin
to mend you too. Within a lightly colored
tint engendered by the early morning dew.
Cool, the wind, as autumn sets her sights
for all to see. Crimson red that shines
so bright within the golden orange.

'Tis then the healing begins.
At last - it really happens...

? Michaelette ?

Copyright© 2003 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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