Sometimes the things you are dance freely,
Light and feathery, like air.
They evoke the rhythmic yearning for life in lungs,
And mouths will suck you in with their praises.
Stop here, dig deep your feet in the words that they speak -
And be at peace with the shining.
Most times, the things you are are lead and weighty,
Sooted and shadowy, dark like some berries.
Here, you may find that it is you alone to drink.
To sit, to think. In this space,
Open your eyes though they may be weary, see yourself fiercely.
Grab the tassels of your tearing, be yourself gently.
All times, you are mosaic - a melange of light and shadow.
Fleeting to the gaze that seeks to fixate: you, dark and light.
You may escape the archetypal story, though you may be many colliding at once.
Stories of me, and the women before - of the men during and after.
Shapely narratives of victory and defeat, made up of you, made up of we.
Here, dare to know and un-know, to breathe.
Dare to speak and un-speak.
To see and un-see, as to be seen and unseen.
Take fiercely the shadow as you do the light.
And unfold crinkled into the art that is love.
A poem for Elikia.