CATHARSIS

Im writing about this event not because Im proud (though I am neither ashamed) but because of what it meant to my being: A purge, an unspoken realization, the final fuck-you.
I had heard the word catharsis before, even looked it up to get an idea of its meaning. Now I know exactly what it means.

It was two or three months back and a particularly nice spring day when I found myself downtown. Where I was going I do not remember but I had also found myself in a not so particularly good mood. Certainly not one to be in crowds, and definitely not one to be dealing with oppressive ignorance.

I was approaching Pioneer Square at 6th and Morrison when I heard a man on the corner of the square, in a loud and certain voice, informing the air that no one is saved. I sarcastically and light heartedly commented to him as I neared - he being on my left - that I guessed we were all going to hell then. He took advantage of my words to proclaim that, No! those who accept Jesus will be saved...  and at that very moment, a man on the right whom I had not noticed before, began to speak in the same tones. I was taken by surprise. Great! Stupid in stereo!

That's when it happened, sudden and pure. As my feet took me forever forward, my hands went up towards heaven and with the universal symbol displayed in both of them I shouted in my own confident and clear voice  "FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU!"

Wow, what had happened? I don't know for sure but by the time I got to the other side of the square and had ascended the steps, a smile so true crossed my face and I began to laugh.
I laughed.

I had not felt that sweet in a very long time.

THERE to HERE

   Missing things in Tucson?
   What was, what could've been?
   Then there was that wall.

   Anyway.

   Within, Without.

   The Indigos are here--always have been.

   But one day, in an ancestral beginning of days, the webs of deceit - an all encompassing lie - were wove into the light of the soul and the truth became as a devil.
   And the light outside the darkness? Who is it that has bound the spirit in chains of gold and glory--a heavy burden of selfishness?

   So much light and still so hard to see.

   A light is hiding in the darkness where dreams speak of truths. Where the webs are only players and must everyone play true. We all go there. It's part of us. But daylight and consciousness break and our journey there becomes like that breeze on that day when the sun shone gentle on your face--but that was a long, long time ago like a tattered black and white photo you found in a dusty book of faded stories, a photo of people you don't know but should. Or like, nothing at all--less than forgotten.

   Anyway.

   We are all mirrors.

   I live in Portland now.

AND SO MUCH MORE

I am the moon and stars on a bright and infinite evening
And the earth breathing beneath our feet.
I am the verdant branch
Reaching for the essence of all things created--
The sun giving and taking.
I am the wind
Speaking in the voice of our ancestors
And the rain
Washing us of our transgression.
I am the truth we hide in dark places
And the truth which can't be seen for all its brightness.

When the grubs devour my illusion
And my flesh feeds life,
I will rise to find my constellation
And rest with eternity.

I am.

THEY SHALL FIND US

Me:

Happy in my space,

Creating.

My hands your hands.

I wished to share the work of those hands,

Say, Hey!

I found my way.

Joy

And your eyes bright with love.

Your eyes my eyes.

Im sure we could have been friends,

Before we got in the way,

Before your ghosts came back to haunt you--

Desperate and Despair of your fathers.

Poison for your pain?

Yeah, we could have been friends

Once we found our own separate ways which were always one.

I remember the day I left your battlefield bed,

The tormented station where you waited for a moment.

- You bore the sins of your fathers and your children are redeemed -

Walking away, I am hesitation in motion.

I knew I would never see you again.

A few days later:

Your youngest wayward stands in the field of your moment

And with a whisper you are released from the fight.

"Now I can" you said

And promptly left your battered form

Leaving the living alone together--

Each one their own separate story.

I remember my evening of the day you left:

Standing with peace on my starry knoll,

Speaking with the wind,

I knew, knowing nothing, that you watched from your infinite place--

Eternity before you.

We smiled.

I remember.

A week later:

A cordial gathering of tensioned strangeness,

A hollow church,

A sermon of sympathy,

Spoken by those who never knew you to those who never knew you--

Sons and daughters without a father.

He had no father before him.

Two more days:

Again we wonder our own paths
Bittered with your debris--

Ignorance and innocence

Passed from father to father to father.

We stumble with frowns and angry fingers.

But you did not kill the elders,

Shadow the way with me, me, me.

Us can not comprehend it.

But still,

As the illumined numbers forever turn,

Watching over sleepless nights,

We shall walk in our own right way

And comfort in the wisdom of our ancestors.

MISTER

Fucking raw!

Just amusing myself...

But yeah,

Raw.

Blood and muscle and bone.

And passion.

And your hands so close to my breath.

And love?

Why not.

Raw love... I have no images to conjure.

But I see a face.

And eyes.

Mischievous---With a sly smile.

Intense, with something like fear.

Or death.

And a very particular blue.

Raw blue.