IntoTheIndigo

In Honour….

This day usually marks fireworks and cheesy doohickeys, red and white ensemble and leaves… but today… I’ve chosen to remember and honour the evidence found of the numerous and growing graves of children taken to residential schools. I refuse to call this a recent discovery… rather it was a cover up of voices that have always called from the peripheries… and now I pray their souls are at peace and…

Your satisfaction would only come from me peeling my skin away in search of your anger and crawling agitation… my nails maniacally claw away your cruel incessant ticklish prickles , your ceaseless meandering of marauding minute ants seem silenced only when my skin is razed raw with burning….

Pourquoi…pourquoi pas?

Pourquoi quand je caresse mon peau, je me manque ton sourire, ton touche, tes yeux qui soif pour moi… Et après elle est satisfaite… Elle prie pour sang. Contente et complete elle avale une capsule et souhaite pour sang….elle est un peu triste quelquefois….simplement un dalliance avec l’ideale mais reconaissant pour modernité. Elle quelquefois pense pendent les nuits sans sommeil…une partie de…

I cannot fathom numbers…. the larger they are the more meaningless is my scope of their enormity…. and yet each and every one is not a number…. it’s a being that once existed as unique and as precious as hopefully loved as they crowd bewildered in what awaits after…

Survival of the fittest you smirk. Unmasking, untameable, a rebel without a valid thought you are, and there’s more of you thinking of only you.. And how cruel is existence that you flouting restrictions, scoffing at science, saunter asymptomatic and wreck havoc on others who love you and will suffer and die for it.

And here you are my darling with all your unabashed love, your yearnings, your affirmations, your wit and chuckles, your passion and your patience, your wary steps and heartfelt leaps, you frame all my days and seep into my dreams, you win my heart over and over inspiring me to give once again without fear.

This is not what I meant by coming all together… it has only caused us distance all around and within, a stealing of life, a theft of time, a struggle of sanity, a daily encounter with fear, anxiety rules all Supreme and we wait… as we fear there’s is no ending… but that this is a beginning that we never wanted..

You didn’t listen. She feels justified in her punishments, the starvation hears no yearnings. You didn’t abide. You scoffed, ignoring her steadily aimed words… her stunted pleas for obedience. And now she suffers you in cruel silence… you don’t exist, she cannot stand to acknowledge you. You are selfish and stupid and stubborn and useless and worthless… And yet you have only gone your own…

I see it in your eyes And my adoration is no secret Yet we wait Are we afraid? Or are we waiting until it’s stronger?

That feeling we’ve come to adorn with hearts and in modernity do not confuse with desire. For desire has its own needs however fleeting. And that feeling has lost its permanence… we know it can change, it can grow or it can fade and stop and fool. Its power though still lies in the expectations of its declaration. I know the grounding of those words that i naiively believed could not be uttered…

I know her and sense all the reasons why she wants to wander… her frustrations, her isolation, her stifled soul and the deafening inner voices that torment her upon the minute silence. But also maybe because she’s so afar and I soften at her distant actions…I sleep fitfully knowing she’s perhaps very contagious and nonetheless it seems fair to her that infected her must carry it to others when…

Spring’s Hearld

Spring’s Hearld” Spring’s feathered herald pecks furtively at the frozen’d ground urging worms far nestled below who refuse to venture out and greet the bitter rain. His red-dulled breast heavy-drenched with water disguised as ice. II She found last night among the howling winds that her chickling had become an egg once more curled into a downy, frail ball yet no more warm now more silent than…

All the potential But reality needs to have his way. With all the roses There must be thorns. With all the sufferings There must also be doubt And that voice That says there’s no rest for the wicked But there’s no peace for the good either.

When she was uncertain She raged, she plotted, she cursed And when she finally found out She folded. Things went back to the way they were. Betrayal trying to justify his sleaziness and righteousness too exhausted to care. And so he wins… And so he wins again.

And sometimes when I get too aware you lull me with soft and gentle mundanity..all the more to remain all feared… You await the moment I finally begin yet beyond all stings and doubts to believe again… Because Nothing less will satisfy your hunger for the jaded than when they fretfully forget their doom… only to be reminded in a moment of unbelievable cruel despair.

I have come to understand my doom. In one fell swoop all hopes turn to dust. I am better now in letting in settle, Brushing it off like built up dust. Sweeping it aside once I see its true colours. It erodes away at hope and helps me build mountains of cynicism instead.