Reclaiming my inner badass at 50
Haunted hours
When my ghosts
Emerge from
The ether
Waltz
In slow rotation
Through my memory
Music
Only they can hear
Skeletal orchestra
Backside of the night
When my demons
Come out to play
Leap frog through
My dreams
Like rowdy children
With fangs
With talons
Red rover
Red rover
Shall we play
Hide and seek?
Moon
Full
Ripe
Shines on skin
Alabaster
Frost crunches
Under bare feet
Breath a vaporous cloud
Visible in the chill night air
I do not feel the cold
Shiver only from the thrill
Mournful cry
Of my brothers and sisters
In the still night
Calls to me
Sings of adventures
To be shared
Pulses in my veins
Awakens the hunter
Lures me to the pack
I give up
My fear
My humanity
I offer
Rich
Red blood
Burning passion
That smolders deep
I embrace
The night
Heady freedom
Darkness
Wildness
I am running with the wolves tonight
© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved
A collaboration between Christine of Brave and Reckless and S. Francis of SailorPoet
The days blend, one into the other,
Waking naked into the world, I stare
Into a meaningless blur trying for
Definition with a shave and makeup
Armor to protect from soulless work
Seeping inside these walls to steal
What remains of my fight. I sleep
Empty in bed, cold featureless sheets
Cover my flesh, only virgin pillows
Wrapped in white, offering contours.
Loneliness like a season failing passage.
I am a run on sentence
Too many ideas
Ping pong in my head
Too many fragments of me
Run amok
Across the page of my life
No patience with punctuation
No place left to pause for breath
Hurtling
Always hurtling
Onward
Through space
Through time
Afraid to stop too long
To rest
Hesitant to contemplate
Each phrase on its own
In its weighty separateness
Wary of pausing
To consider
Meaning
Context
Direction
Implication
Reluctant to allow
Each element
Of my sentence
To just sit
For a moment
And breathe. . .
I cannot
Be broken
Twice
But life is
Doing its damn best
To bend me
Fold me
Into painful
Sharp
Origami shapes
Crane
Butterfly
Swan
Turtle
Frog
Dragon
Over and over
Deep creases form
In my skin
My muscles twist
My bones scream
My heart aches from compression
My soul cries mercy
As I contort
Become unrecognizable
Fall to the ground
Like crumpled paper
Cardstock
Glue
Strips of torn colored silk
Tiny silver beads
Feather found
On a walk
We took together
Midnight poem
From my soul
Indelibly inked
Upon the surface
The secrets
About you
I have been
Keeping
This is how I construct
The paper heart
I hand to you
A gift
A proxy
For the delicate
Clockwork
Inside my chest
That has
Oh so slowly
Begun to beat
In time
To yours
You ask why
as if there is some answer
that would satisfy us
that could make us nod our heads
in collective agreement
Yes, we would say wisely
he should have taken his life
Yes, she deserved to be a statistic
Ask instead:
how much pain a human being
must be in to choose dying
over existing?
Ask:
how low self-worth can sink
to sincerely believe that
wives
husbands
children
parents
siblings
best friends
would be better off without him?
How dark and poisoned
must the air surrounding her become
to choose to stop breathing?
I have stood at the edge of the abyss
weary to my very bones
helpless
hopeless
trapped so deep and alone in my own head
that I did not believe that I would ever be able to free myself
from the sticky black tar that filled my lungs
filled my thoughts
hell on earth
I do not need to ask why
There is piercing ache in my soul
that another sister
another brother
another life
has been lost
no memorials for me to lay a wreath
no candles to light
no hands to hold
in this nameless war
© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved
My words
My blood
My bones
My tears
My pain
My joy
My heart
My soul
You may steal
My words
Borrow
My sentences
Appropriate
My verse
But my
Fingerprints
Have marked them
They are woven
Like strands of my DNA
The essence of who I am
Rings true
You will not
Steal my voice
You shall not
Steal my truth
Forces far more powerful
Far more fierce
Than you
Have tried to silence me
And still I stand
Inspired by A.R.Frederiksen’s .Ceramic Bodies.
Empty hands
Long to caress and mold with sure fingers
Vessel to hold feelings
Spilling out of awakened heart
Glaze it indigo
Adorn it with butterflies
Delicate wings tinged silver
Test it with fire
Before filling to the brim
© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved
