The Bows

There is a rainbow in this box of play,
I ‘wouldn’t have it any other way’,
It’s not a kind of symbol of ideal
But rather; simple, beautiful appeal.

I am biased; in this fact there are no lies.
I love black, green, gold and blue eyes,
Almond shaped and crescent shaped the same,
Tan, white, red curly head and tamed.

My beautiful ideal is hard to match.
It is even more impossible to catch.
How can you manage every single trait,
Of such awesomeness in just one single mate?

But then again there is a time in space,
When peace comes while the world is apace,
And suddenly all beauty comes together,
Like rain and rainbows come in sunny weather,

And, like a meadow at the summers start,
All flowers flung before my blissful heart,
Much better never plucked and only sung,
So they will be eternally young.

The embers of the soul you never meet,
Upon any dirt or grey concrete,
But only in the sharing of the minds,
The book of Love is opened; Beauty finds.

Bumper Packed

Deep greens
Wild greys on bluing skies
Bleached heavy
Hanging washing
In winds that snap
Snow hides
Travelling east
Dark days creased
As branched reach
Fingering frigid air
Breathless
Through the window
My land glides past
Cars and trucks
Running on Frak Juice
Dreaming about a solar hat
Attached to a cell phone
Charging ahead
The engines roar
Bulleting
An old black car
Three young dark haired
Curls free and eyes
Meet mine one second
Light from a Bic
Flashing in the rainbow disc
With the swooping curls
Written over a blue eye
They knew me
My lane rocketed by
Looking back in fog lights
Bumper packed

Moooo…meeennnnn..t

Move it on down th’ river
If you’re not gonna dock
If you’re not gonna rock
In the cradle with me
Move it on down…

I don’t have time
T’ waste thinkin’ of you
If you’re gonna pass by
Wave
Maybe I’m there

Maybe I’m busy with love
Maybe a new boat tied fast
Maybe fishin’ alone
Smilin’ like I ate the sun
Smooth

Movin’ on down the river
Maybe swimmin’
You think you want me
I won’t feed your niaat need
I am takin’ care of business

Move that moooooo minnnnn’ t’
To a beat you can serve
I deserve real
No bad stuff here
I wish you well dear

Move it on down th’ river
If you’re not gonna dock
If you’re not gonna rock
In the cradle with me
Move it on down…

Under The Closed Door…

…a slice of light shines from the long white hall with it’s shiny, black eyeball watchers embedded in the bottom of the upper floor. Under the door and through the light I escape the glassy black eyes and their impersonal stare. I rise to the sky-light in Winter’s still moonless night cold humid cloud fog feels more dense than the glass whose atomic structure yields to my unsubstantial existence.

You have called out to me.

This form feels no cold.

I am weightless darkness moving across the earth upon the winds. The updraft of a stray trade wind throws me aloft into the jet stream. 300 to 400 miles per hour I speed as the jet snakes past oceans and continents. I will reach you before you wake up, look in the mirror, and douse dark curls with water and look at your black eyes in the small mirror above the sink. I soar East and the sun has not yet shed a ray into the nascent skies.

I feel you. You are wearing that semi-circular torque around you…drawing me into your atomic structure…

…into your dream.

“I have come.”

You lay on a green hillside sprinkled with tiny white star-flowers. Your lashes brush your high cheek bones soaking in the sun before it arrives and the call to prayer breaks the hush of dawn. Your face smiles with the peace of the moment.

I look at her through barely opened eyes. This has always been a talent of mine: to call these creatures of the wind. She is small and fair like the flowers. Snow white curls blowing in the mountain wind framing a child’s face. She is one whose age means nothing. I say nothing. She stands there and moves, carefully, until she casts a shadow on my face and I can see her more clearly.

Green eyes. Slightly pointed ears. She does not look centuries old.

“Come…”

She moves over the earth without touching it and sits beside me. She lays her hand upon my chest and understands I am also not human…not in this place. Her hand is small and her touch is like feathers. Without words she lays down next to me and curls up very close. I hold her easily with one arm. The breeze blows her soft blue dress over the hairs on my arms tickling them and making my skin laugh. I can feel that she feels, too, the ground move beneath us. 

What a lovely creature it is who called me, who holds me so tightly to himself. Still he seems not to have seen me but I know him too well. This world is only overlaid upon the one we live in. I slide my hand under his leather jacket and feel the hairs under the cotton shirt making it stand away from his body. I feel his skin laugh under the material. Birds fly overhead speaking their chirrrrrr chirrrrrr language and somewhere drums beat.

Maybe it is our hearts that sound like thunder in counter-point?

The wind makes trees sing with the birds and the drums of our hearts make a music beyond the sound of humanity. My hand climbs to his face. It needs no mind to make it move. He still says nothing. Over the short beard my fingers stray to his lips. I feel a thread spin through my ether as he takes my fingertip between his lips and starts what I can imagine…

…I slowly pull away and cup his ear in one palm, curving it so that the wind sings louder.

“It sings for you beautiful one.”

His eyes open. Within them I see all the light and good things to my darkness. He is Day to my Night…Joy to my Sorrow…mirror of my soul.

“So it always is that darkness comes clothed with light…”

“So it always is that light creates the shadows of Time…”

Inside I become outside and outside she becomes inside. Sweet smells come from grass the colour of her eyes crushed for the sake of Love. 

Now both his arms encircle me as the sky does the planet and he pulls me on top on his long slender body until my arms frame his face like a pale halo and his long dark lashes sweep upwards, white teeth flashing into a smile. His eyes hold me like his arms hold me and the blue dress from the sky flows over his legs while my knees rest on either side of him, barely touching the ground. Green grass tickles my toes. The world sings a chorus of birds and hearts and the voices of the trees.

Fierce joy rises up in me. I want this one I have called to me; to serve and protect and love. One hand moves without thought to the soft white curls dancing in the breeze and cups and tangles and her sea green eyes close as she gives her mouth to me. Her hands tangle in my hair as well.

His mouth tastes like well water. I am thirsty for this kiss! Sing birds that fly! Sing for this love! Beat drums! I feel the love he cannot say with words pressed against my belly.

The first ray of sun reaches it’s greedy fingers over the pregnant earth. Azan is called.

I awake in the middle of the night.

My arms are empty.

But It Won’t Be Inside Your Mouth

Yesterday was love
It seemed there were lessons to be learned
We always seem to need those on a holiday
Anyway
So I woke up from a dream I wished would be
But it was just a dream you see

And so I came to this conclusion:

Don’t believe in dreams
You’ll end up with both open eyes
Empty hands believe in only what is real
And lives inside you

Papa told once the truth
When I was just a youth
and I will repeat the same thing now for the you

Wish in one hand shit in the other one
See which one fills up faster
Do not place your hopes on movies stars or kings
When the movie ends you will be left with nothing
When the kingdom crashes down you will be all alone
With nothing in a pile of rubble staring
at your empty hands
Don’t put all your happiness
Upon another person
It is very likely one day they will be gone far away
And don’t imagine you are happy
Because you have a home
Because really
All it is is just a place for the sack of skin you live in
To reside

Abide in that skin and you’ll be home
No matter if the kingdom falls
No matter how the winds may blow
And if it all comes crashing down again
Just smile and walk off
Like the hero did
In the movie that you only just remember from a dream

Oh my friend don’t cry
Don’t let your soul belong to the world
World will betray you
Don’t let your mind get set upon a game
The game the game will slay you
Don’t let money be the only focus of life life or beauty
You will someday lose it all
You will lose it all and the angels will come to take you away

Nothing much will matter in the face of that day
The things you dreamed the most of then
Will have nothing to do
With the things you thought you loved outside of you
It will be the love you gave to
More than dreams
Love who you are
More than the dream and shooting stars
More than anything on earth love God

The rest is just the wind
Yes wind is beautiful
It makes the silent things sing out
But it won’t always be inside your mouth…

Tomorrow Everything Changes

Halfway there we are now but still in the ‘hood’ and they are ‘trashing out’ as apartment upstairs so I have had mountains of trash and junk outside my door for two days but all that changes tomorrow…

…I am be official at the assisted living center for seniors and disabled people.

Lots of times people don’t want to go to those places because they lose so much but I am lucky because I don’t have so much to lose so, to me, it is a huge big blessing. I have been waiting on this blessing just over a year and a half…waiting through abuse from a manager who was a crack head…waiting through my kitchen floor being jacked up from a collapsed sewer pipe…waiting through the garden it took me two years to make pretty being sheared to the ground when I came home from the hospital after parathyroid surgery. This place is the haven for mice, cockroaches, Stachybotris mould and, for some on the other end of these 600 units, lice and bed bugs as well. This is where the poorest people live in this town. Compared to some places in the world this place is paradise.

But beautiful things happened here too.

My friends from 20 years ago found me here after I was sure I would die before I ever saw them again. I met a few nice people. I was able to be close to my mother. My mother has been such a huge help to me as I cannot drive anymore and she, at 77 years old, is stronger than me. 10 or more years ago I used to make fun of how ‘pokey’ she was when we went walking together and now she leaves me in the dust.

Don’t be too proud of who you are and what you have you never know when it might not be there anymore. When I am out in the store driving the little electric cart to get my groceries and I see someone and think how gross or disgusting they are I stop myself and say inside,

“Astagafirullah”

For some people I am scary and disgusting I am sure.

Last year I used to take the power-chair down to the little, local ‘handkerchief’ park that borders the farm lands at the edge of town. I would go to the ‘bob-wire’ fence and look out over the rolling green in the spring…or in the fall the big, round golden bales under this high Oklahoma sky and remember the days I hiked the farmers fields and swam in cow ponds I probably shouldn’t have swum in and waded through creeks that were dry half the season. Black Oaks and Poison Ivy near vanilla-scented clover and Skunk Weed. ‘So many varieties of night-shade are native here that it would be impossible to name the 92 that are known. I am not a city girl and never was one but now I am about to become a city girl.

I wonder what it will be like to ride the bus all over the city and take the power chair out to the man-made fish pond near where I will be living tomorrow. I will have built in neighbours and they all seem to be nice and friendly people I have met some of them already.

I don’t think I ever lived in a place this fancy but I will be OK there, In Sha Allah, if anything happens to mom. This has to happen so I can learn to be independent again like I once was…only in a new and different way. In my fifty years it seems I have moved a rough average of every three years and, once more, I am moving again after three years

This is not the life I dreamed for myself when I was twenty-something and knew everything but this will be a good life and I am grateful for this life. And yes Muslims are allowed to like music…at least that is what I have learned from those of my friends now say…”Allhamdulillah”

(song by Rascal Flatts)

I Feel You…

…where you ride in the wind

Over man’s grey paths

On the roar of fire

Floating

Spinning while spinning

Singing with your teeth

Hands numb

Vibrations in cold

Keen skeen sharp

Under a mile high sky

Blue mirage above into black

Studded

With the frozen breath

Of Angels spinning

Where you ride the wind

I feel you…

…Where your skin is alone

Your face tingling

Wishing for a kiss more

Than pushing through unseen

Speeding

Holding tight to bars

Leaning into desire

Wanting the beginning

Only one way to go

On the roar of the fire

Spinning while spinning

Compressing kilometers

Gaining nanoseconds

Hurting with needing

Where your skin is alone

I feel you…

…The joy that cries

The lips that sigh singing

Charged from the core

Struck

Electrified

Spinning from blue

Into the stars

Hungry belly intense

Predator on the hunt

Crying over the kill

Sorrow for the bleeding

Where your skin is alone

Pumping you alive

Speeding spinning

Into the beginning…

I feel you.

Vantage Point

It all depends on where you are standing…or if you can stand anything. Simply put (and cheerleading the obvious) the things we dream of change over time or we risk supreme unhappiness if we are unable to do what we have dreamed of.

People say, “You didn’t get it because you didn’t TRY! You didn’t ‘speak in tongues! You didn’t BELIEVE hard enough!”

If that were true I would have won the lottery and become Miss America YEARS ago. There is no ‘Secret’. The only thing that ever matters, in this world, is ACTION! Even action is not a ticket to ‘Elysium’. Life is not a movie. If action were a ticket to your dreams there would be women, sewing clothing for Wal Mart, living a life they can only dream of because of the ACTION of their hard work. They are not lazy women. They are victims of circumstance.

Some say there is no such thing as a ‘victim’ but there IS such a thing. Yes there are things we CHOOSE that affect our lives but, quite often, there are things that we have NO CONTROL over and those are many. The children with cancer did not CHOOSE that. Those whose parents died swiftly, while still young, did not DREAM of that and choose that. If you climb the Apple Tree you may fall and break your arm but you might also be walking down the street and be hit by a random car and get a broken arm.

My mother was telling me, tonight, of women of her class and station who live in large, nice homes who are unable to care for themselves and whose children cannot or will not care for them and about how terrible they they think it is to give that life-style up and go live in a one bedroom apartment where there are people who will help them because they don’t want to lose their furniture and they cannot afford full time nursing care in their homes. They cry about the idea of going to the SAME PLACE I am so GLAD to be going!

Now that I have established from whence I am coming from I will go back to dreams.

I spent DECADES dreaming of seeing the Khyber Pass. I spent Most of my life dreaming of making enough money to buy plastic surgery and make myself pretty. In the last five years I had much smaller dreams. I dreamed of going to go live in Sulphur, Oklahoma. The man who was my next door neighbor moved there this year.

Last night I was dreaming about how awesome it would be to live where the old and crippled poor live. How much of a blessing that would be and how ready I am to go there.

A year ago I would have written that sentence and cried but now it no longer matters.

Vantage point is everything.

Eastern Window

Walk away again
Into Being
This is our quest
To best live what is
Letting everything slide
Into Lethe
All our definitions
All we thought we were
Floats away
Under the pennies
Over closed eyes
Struggling to see
Tomorrow’s story today
We should be
Sitting quietly
In the sun
God gave us each
No more wishing
To be in better places
Questioning
How did this now
Become
We should be
Smiling in the storms
Praying to be struck
With light
To let fall
This coat of flesh
To become light
To become
What someone sees
Rising in their eastern window
Each night alone
For all the joy
For all the pain
Questioning
How did this now
Become
Struggling to see
Tomorrow’s story today

~MshannonM

The Flesh Turns To Dirt

 

In time you will see
All things pass away
Each thing going on
Each person leaving
Your vision fades
Your strength wanes
Your children wave
As they embark
Upon thier own lives
Friends die or leave …
Different lands or Life
Stay in one place
You will even see this
Life is about loss
Until the last moment
When all is gone
Life, strength, family and friends
Crawling onwards to the goal
Born alone
Go alone
The stage revealed
 For it’s stage
The sun rises once more
The flesh turns to dirt