Mind encourages Brain to see beyond the illusion of its Western border; a love letter

if i am to allow for this 
grief to be a failure 
in my creativity, then 
it seems permissive 
to view this sadness as 
an attack 
of the relentless heart. 
and yes, an attacking
heart may culminate in death, 
though that is the end result of every
beginning, so why not revel
in the fervency of conviction?

walking through the shafted sunlight
of this day, a day given 
to thanks, and i am partitioned
into columns by the checkerboard 
of sun and shadow. skin, 
sweet in its mourning, warmed 
by a round-lipped sun kiss. skin,
sour in its solemnity, frozen
by the shadow of all that’s quietly
walked away. even in shrieking 
terror, a quiet departure. 

i departed from the immediacy 
of the land i once clung to, 
a surrounding ocean, no longer 
roaring its whispered instruction.
absence, and i find difficulty
in interpreting the language of ocean
tide; i have fled without intention 
the shores of my metaphor, am now more
fully encircled by a substance which can 
annihilate me, though offers itself only
intangibly. my legs, allowed 
free range of an island’s limitations,
feel stiff in the knee. walking 
with a jerking gait, my torso 
gifted loose connection with my 
anchorage to the ground. i have gained 
weight in these last months, 

though perhaps these
are the first months. 

this weight 
gain has done little 
to keep me from floating up and 
away from the land of my attachment. 

the relentless heart, 
it tethers me to this 
desire for creation.
sadness stifles 
my attempts to inhabit a
new wing 
in my chambered house. 
perhaps i am still
building, or perhaps there
has never been any 
need for another

earlier, just moments ago, 
i was floating 
and stumbling through this
impossible town. the
mountains were held in 
such kind relief,
to the unbothered patience 
of our wise sky. in cloud and 
in sun, the mountains up there
above us. they seem to have 
found ease in their place on this planet;
this imagined ease, perhaps born of hope. 

we seek the kindness of ease and
try to steady our skittering heart and 
hope for something to come from the growing 
emptiness in our brief body. 
it is uncomfortable
to grow towards the oblivion 
of peace, the unfettered joy 
of hopelessness. 

William Merritt Chase. 1896. “Shinnecock, Long Island”

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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