My soul’s companion.

Deep rest,  
I need you.

My mind battles with lessons of the day,
Processing experiences I had and unfelt. 

Sleep,
I need you.

But before I have you,
I must purge my undigested thoughts.
Before I have you,
I must write.

If I don’t get to her,
My body-mind will let me know.
It buzzes at me,
in scattered thoughts
and brain-awake vibes.

Emily Dickinson
Never had a lover.
Her pen and pad were him.
At 3 a.m., she met him,
in the study with tea.
She made love to him with paper
and ink.
She couldn’t get through a day
without writing.
I know her woes.
No, I know her passions.

It’s okay to be this.
Me, here, now,
Desiring to express.

Expression is not purging of the negative,
but a Polaroid of ephemeral beauty.

So fleeting is this life.

Express and be heard.
Feel and be felt.
Love and know pain.

In the passing moments between caresses
are the empty bed,
twisted-sheet moments
of no beating heart next to you.

Just one,
Just you,
breathing solo in an otherwise empty room.

Wandering thoughts asking questions
that have no answers.

Sometimes we just have to stop,
and breathe, and wait.

The waiting,
the enoughness that we seek.

The waiting is life.

Simple unknotted authenticity,
Uncomplicated wisdom.

Waiting is clarity, crystal-clear purpose,
that requires no thought.

It just is what it is,
and that’s enough.

 

Relephant:

Eternal Duality. {Poem}

~ 

Author: Sarah Theresa
Image: lia-k/ Flickr
Editor: Angel Lebailly
Copy editor: Yoli Ramazzina