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Springheel Jane

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(no subject) [Jun. 14th, 2019|12:26 pm]
Springheel Jane
in the song of solomon there is a passage that reads: "i found him whom my soul loves. i held him and would not let him go." to holding on, to knowing again that moment of rapture, of recognition where we can face one another as we really are, stripped of all artifice and pretense, naked and not ashamed. --bell hooks
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when the light reaches between two souls and brings them home [Apr. 26th, 2009|07:35 pm]
Springheel Jane
she held in him in her hands like a child holds a doll,
looking ceaselessly into his deep blue eyes like she could maybe figure out what was dull in them,
he frowned and curled away his body, sensing that he was being diagnosed by a little girl who wished so gravely to be a doctor.

i held out my hand and beckoned him, like a demon or angel beckons a lost soul,
and he dropped his gaze, as if he wanted to stay lost;
the sun is dimmer on the other size of the moon, and less bright,
and his eyes were too worn by what had come before to move into the light.

his dull eyes grew duller, like a thousand rains had stripped their shine,
and all the little girls of the world tugged on his hair trying to make him their own.

so i sat on the wet earth and pulled my knees to my throat;
i watched him and i felt more lost than he did--
for a moment, i fell into his heart that felt, constantly, like it was falling, too.
but he regained himself,

and he sat on the wet earth, and pulled his knees to his throat, looking at me from a distance of 20 feet,
and i stared deeply into his dull eyes that seemed to pull him out of focus of himself.
little threads of consciousness were drooping down, down, and falling into the clumpy soil,
scattering his being out and through the holes in the earth;
and all it took was for me to catch one of these threads, shimmering and shining in the pale brightness of the day, and pull it into me, and connect him to something real;

like a fresh breath, i brought him to a place he'd known before,
and with my hand, i pulled him close to remember what life once was, and of who i am,
and our lungs filled as one, our chests expanding, and emptying, as though we
were existing as one, as though we always were all along.

he had come to see me out of hope, and i had come to see him in my waiting,
and with the pulling of our feet, we had come to the right place;

for i had been no angel or demon, no savior or serpent;
i had merely found compassion for a man lost in the folds of the downtrodden, and searching;
i had reached forth and delivered a man who had delivered his own,
so by chance, and longing,
we were connected,
i to him and him to me,
like a bird calling west to everyone he's ever known,
welcoming himself home to the great landscape of the earth,
and i called out to the song of a man who's found himself,
and he and i fell into the arms of sweet circumstance,
and we laid in the lap of never-ending time.

and that was the day i knew love again, and how it fills up our veins from the veins of the earth,
and how it comes from before and goes on to forever;
how it is not special, and separate,
but common, and shared, among all of life and all its spirits;
i knew him and he knew me, and that was enough.
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