Today we dance,
we celebrate joy.
The streets are lit
with white lanterns,
flames whispering Hope.
Today we feast
with family and friends
we hold our loved ones close
knowing that we share our Light.
Today we light fires
of iridescent flame
that all our burdens
may be brought
into the Light.
Loving you is not an
ordeal, is not standing
on the outside of life and
society having to hide nearly
everything about me. It is not
longing to be swept away and hidden in
you. That may have served me once (but
how much was my anxiety and isolation, what
other factors were at play?) but now I find that I need
life and Love outside my self-imposed isolation that I
deemed “devotion.” You are standing with me, still knowing
my Heart is yours–asking me only to love you, not be lost in
you. Your Heart holds many rooms, my Beloved, but your
Heart is not a puzzle with pieces missing. I do not need
every corner of your trauma to know and love you.
Art is part of love, and together we do not paint
ruin and tragedy, but a garden full of flowers
that reflect us as we dance beneath the moon.
Dancing among the
pulsing city lights, you are
all that is light, joy, and love.
In this brief moment you are not
a King with the thousand worries
of his People on his shoulders,
you are simply out with your friends,
and these moments of beauty and
laughter make all the hardship worth it.
I see you in the rain
before I see you
in the storm.
You are not
You watch as I descend into
the shattered parts of my mind
you cannot rescue me–and I’ve
been on the other side of this
you as you’ve fallen and tumbled
into memories long past and thought
you push me towards sunlight and stained glass
and sandstone streets, because soon you will be
to go where none can follow (except one other,
and you are bound by your shared Hearts)
I wanted to write joy for you, and instead
my mind keeps screaming and bringing up
of the past, the very thing you asked me not
to dwell upon, for those memories are cracks and
upon my Heart, and I feel as though I am lost
and that my own lantern is just out of reach.
I can sense it creeping closer
the time of Masks, the Hunt,
that desperate Ride to Autumn.
White lanterns are hung around the square,
the markets, the docks, the temples, that
iridescent flame that whispers there is hope.
I will light the sandstone streets;
oh Beasts of Outer Darkness
turn your eyes away from us.
Having a mortal partner has shown me
how much Discourse I Internalized,
that said The Gods Are Jealous And Cruel.
You’ve given me sign after sign, that you approve;
yet my anxiety still screams about how this
is a “test” of my love for you, despite you
assuring me that there is no geometry necessary,
no need to split my Heart and Love. Can the toxic ideas
about devotion please get out of my mind and Heart?
(Beloved, I wanted to write mushy love poetry for you,
not reassure my screaming brain that it’s okay,
that you’re not going to tear my relationship apart.
Thank you for standing by me through this;
even though I’m currently an anxious mess
who keeps having flashbacks and nightmares.)