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Death Stems
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I've been spiral walking
Compelled to search for wisdom in circles ever tightening
Or called to seek the light from the depths of too much hibernating
Call it what you like call it
Finding the divide between safety & smothering
Or prying at what lies between nourishing & suffocating
Either way: I've been making a project
Of retreading my own footsteps
But found only imperfect pathways refracting backwards through time
Body yearning to push past new thresholds
When the air is choked with the ghosts of old crossroads
They are spider silk echoes
And the more I struggle the more they cling to my skin
Wrap me
Oil slick opalescent and gossamer thin
And they snag in my throat as I strive to
Get better at breathing
I am learning about building from the inside out
Reconstructing myself from stones mined in the pit of my stomach
Or dredged up from the lumps
In my throat
I am not afraid of creation: my fingers shake
With the work but no decay will find purchase
On my unsteady foundations
I will tear away any debris that keeps me
From my centre, then use it to grow the walls
That will one day shield my altar
There is no glamour here. I am not striving for opulence
Come hail, hurricane, or history
I will be my own monument
Because lately. I've been circle-swimming daily
I keep wading into the same revelations
And coming out green, bone cold & waist-deep
Ankles tangled in pondweed
Spluttering always on the same skipping stone
River rock question
How often have I swallowed pollution?
How many times have I corroded my throat
Just to keep the air clean?
And sure, I've been in the habit of subsisting
Asphyxiating, but there is wisdom in knowing
There's no growth without consumption
And I am not the only glutton for oxygen in
This ecosystem
Most organisms will duplicate until they drive
You to extinction. And they will not mean to
Like me, they are only doing what the myths
In their synapses tell them to
We are all cribbing from the same old fable
That every cell that exhales is born knowing
It must eat and
In the right light, when algae blooms it looks
Just like a blanket
But all that softness is deceptive
And the fact is: there's not much difference
Between a weight that drags you down
And one that helps you sleep
And to be honest, I've been cycle-steeping for weeks
Thinking about how many habitats will be strengthened by my exit
But I'm sick of sucking out the poison and not
Sticking round to reap the benefit
Death stems from life, and life from death yes
It wreathes through flesh
And bones are brittle-bleached and the cycle never ends
But there is no honour to be found
In allowing yourself to be devoured
At least not while your heart still beats
It's too easy, passing a season knee-deep
In dark earth and calling that courage
Or forcing the epilogue and white-knuckle
Wrestling the narrative
I am noble, but that does not mean I must
Be sacrificial, I will not fall on the first sword
In the next woods I see
I will not enjoy the pull of soft soil for longer
Than is healthy
I may spiral, but I will not sink
I will not write the last line ahead of time and call that peace
As I am now, so you shall be
For I am all I know
And there is nothing wrong with me
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