Poetry: The Floor

Poem from my book Apart, Away, Together…written wayyyy on back in 2008.

The Floor

No,
this I do not enjoy.
Show me a crowded  house
and I can always smile
but this empty thing
this place that no one visits…
take it, keep it.
I’ll place a sign in the yard
that reads “BEREFT”
and walk away forever.

You
made my life into a yard sale.
Did I really agree to this
like they say…
before I was born?
I didn’t place the ad
in the local newspaper
but you came anyway,
and bought everything I had.
-Everything
I
Had-

You compensated me with
the inability to go back to sleep…
the inability to be lulled
the gift of words,
the heart of God
and peace that comes easily
daily
readily
the kind of peace that comes
with tears
and smiles.

But even after that
you asked for more,
and what I did not give
you stole.

We stand on the front porch
and argue over what is missing.
I let go, because you broke my hands
that used to hold on so very well.
I say “Fine! Go ahead.  Take the rest…
why don’t you just fucking take what’s left…
take whatever isn’t bolted to the god damn floor!”
You smile and say, “The floor?  We are taking that as well.”

I lay down on the steps
and watch the movers
once again.
I can’t move again,
can’t breathe again,
they just step over me.
I bat at their feet like a kitten.
I cry like a child, ache like the forlorn,
but everything still goes.

Sometimes I just stay there,
clinging to the fresh feeling
of loss,
the bright blood from the wound of duality
spills about and my illusions
exsanguinate
again
again
again.

How much can be left?
How much loss can be borne?
No one is even here to lose anything,
or so I believe,
until I lose even more.

Can I not keep one shred of illusion
wrapped up in a secret parcel of delusion,
and mail it to myself in a secret location
that only I know of…
A place where God cannot follow,
where she cannot see me any longer?
I reach for a secret world where
right and wrong exist
a playground of good and bad
a place where blame and righteousness
can be wielded in some accurate fashion.
A place where someone just like me,
loves being with me, and only me.
A place where my children do not belong
to themselves or God,
but to me, their one and only father.

Yes, I know, I know.
You will take it all…

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About skymeetingtheground

Healer, poet, author, yogi, single father...outdoorsy guy.
This entry was posted in kundalini support, Poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Poetry: The Floor

  1. tealas says:

    All I know for sure
    is that I feel sad
    and that I feel lonely
    and that I feel tired
    and that above all else
    I must say these things,
    they must have a voice,
    perhaps so that the underlying
    peace can breathe.

    Like

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