This is also an older poem. I imagined, or perhaps heard, the conversation of a soul that has transitioned after death, being questioned as to whether the experience of life was worth undertaking.
This question that you ask me is complex, my holy friends. I shall attempt to explain myself.
First, I would liken the experience of human flesh to waiting...waiting...waiting out expectation. Crawling before walking and walking before I was able to dance. Knowing I shall crawl again before death. Thirty years given to waiting...waiting...waiting out expectation.
And my God, the years I spent demanding that the ones I love prove to me that I am wanted and not cast away. God, what incredible imagination, this insistence that words might equate to love and love to permanence. From the bowels of chaos my greatest clarity has arrived. The thicker the wound, the more desperately toward my true self I lean. The less I sway. The farther I venture into the deep throat of wisdom.
Loving hands, immediate and gentle, wash my spirit of hate. Simply amazing that I draw my beloved unto me and to escape the bindings of my soul with kisses too sweet to name and too numerous to count. Such love surely exists in the most sacred sanctuary and yet, the precarious nature of human spirit has taught me well to love as if I might never love again.
I should speak of hunger. I should speak of suicide. But I want to speak of death. Mortal flesh is but a moment of decision. Human years, hours, minutes flow out in the space of an inhaled breath, never to be replaced. In the end, the minutes shall seem but four fleeting minutes.
Ten times, the richness of my life has washed away every despairing moment. Still, often, I have spoken of this desire to commune with you, my beloved Saints and Spirits. Death shall prove sweetest to the spirit mind.
Mortal life is the patience of saints and the purity of the spirits. It is spiritual edification. I have well proven myself and would not chance the mortal flesh again, for guardianship is my permanence.
But these four minutes, my holiest friends...Yes, God yes, to live and love is worth it!
Poetry by inanna
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Written on 2009-08-21 at 12:54
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A Conversation upon Transition of Death or To Have Lived and Loved, was it Worth It?
This question that you ask me is complex, my holy friends. I shall attempt to explain myself.
First, I would liken the experience of human flesh to waiting...waiting...waiting out expectation. Crawling before walking and walking before I was able to dance. Knowing I shall crawl again before death. Thirty years given to waiting...waiting...waiting out expectation.
And my God, the years I spent demanding that the ones I love prove to me that I am wanted and not cast away. God, what incredible imagination, this insistence that words might equate to love and love to permanence. From the bowels of chaos my greatest clarity has arrived. The thicker the wound, the more desperately toward my true self I lean. The less I sway. The farther I venture into the deep throat of wisdom.
Loving hands, immediate and gentle, wash my spirit of hate. Simply amazing that I draw my beloved unto me and to escape the bindings of my soul with kisses too sweet to name and too numerous to count. Such love surely exists in the most sacred sanctuary and yet, the precarious nature of human spirit has taught me well to love as if I might never love again.
I should speak of hunger. I should speak of suicide. But I want to speak of death. Mortal flesh is but a moment of decision. Human years, hours, minutes flow out in the space of an inhaled breath, never to be replaced. In the end, the minutes shall seem but four fleeting minutes.
Ten times, the richness of my life has washed away every despairing moment. Still, often, I have spoken of this desire to commune with you, my beloved Saints and Spirits. Death shall prove sweetest to the spirit mind.
Mortal life is the patience of saints and the purity of the spirits. It is spiritual edification. I have well proven myself and would not chance the mortal flesh again, for guardianship is my permanence.
But these four minutes, my holiest friends...Yes, God yes, to live and love is worth it!
Poetry by inanna
Read 484 times
Written on 2009-08-21 at 12:54
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
