Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Flayed by love

Flayed by love, dissected, the bones laid neat,
in rows, reflective, like ivory polished, rubbed,
glinting in the moon's breath; wiped by sorrow,
counted, held accountable, registered akashic,
known by their shape and form and place, ready
to be carefully selected and returned, restored,
re-membered, in the shadowed caves of knowing,
those caverns of the psyche, where soul works,
the skin is hung on hooks; the heart laid bare,
still pulsing, steady, waiting, holding to the truth,
of who you were, and will be again, when the time,
has come to put it all together in new ways of
being, so that life can come from death's cold
hands, which rub bone on bone, blowing slow,
to spark the flames which call new Self to being.

7 comments:

  1. You sent me to the dictionary :-)

    Is the re-membered, with the hyphen, playing upon dismembered? Like a reincarnation almost?
    This is so densely constructed that it will take me a while to get it all sorted in my head. I will re-read.

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  2. The poetic skill shown in the construction of this poem is superb. You could have entitled it "Taxidermy" !

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    1. Thanks Viv. Not so much taxidermy as Initiation in a shamanic sense.

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  3. the skin is hung on hooks...ugh that sounds painful...good when something new raises from the cold

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  4. I got the return of spirit adding experiences to evolution. Assessment of the road to perfection or how far up the tree one has achieved. Very tight philosophic poem with great imagery.

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