Sunday, 15 February 2009

Hunting High and Low - another journal entry from my profile

We are by nature hunters.... we seek things we need, then try to catch hold of them and hold on to them, perhaps kill them or collect them for display.
We are seekers, searchers.
There is no end to the lengths we will go to get what it is that we think we need.
But sometimes it is better, fitter, more sane to let go and leave.
Knowing this can make things easier or drive us insane with suffering because of the fact that our "dreams are depending" on something we know will never be.

Sometimes it is so hard knowing that the one you love will never know what it means to love them, and there is no way, no matter how high or low I hunt for me to show or catch something to use to explain it.

I'll keep "tearing myself to pieces" like hunters crawling through thorn bush to get closer to their prey.

But I can't hunt for a kill or a trophy because what I hunt for cannot be owned or killed or displayed as a trophy. I hunt without weapons; the closest I can get to capture the object of my quest is a picture. Like the wildlife photographers who capture their prey in images of beauty and wildness. Beauty can be fierce and blinding, cold and unforgiving. But it can never be owned.

I hunt for myself now.

"For you I'll be hunting high and low"
"There's no end to the lengths I'll go to"

I have gone to great lengths before for love, or what I thought was "love".
Now I know that Love is not something I can do anything for.... it just is. I can go to lengths if I want, but they'll be lengths i go to for myself, as nothing I can do could influence Love's path or pure purpose.... it isn't something I could ever catch, hold, or control.

The greatest length I'm working towards going to now is learning to let go.

(2 December 2006, Hunting High and Low)

Sunday, 8 February 2009

Badge Song

Your honour is a badge you wear
pushed into your skin

Don't pin this one on me.
I don't want it.
I haven't the space on my chest for more scars.
I have holes in my heart where I have plucked out stars
to symbolise your eyes
howls have hurt my hearing
hums remain day
day out

I tear myself up like pages between pressed closed covers
or blankets
strewn onto dusty floors
dusty from the dirt of a thousand boots
and skin and hair shed
to keep me from you

Tear yourself apart and bleed
I'll catch the drops,
collect the beads
of blood- tears
and sweat from your face,
off your hair
pooling in the small of your back as you kneel and reel
and drive your hard round wheels over me.

I know my feelings
won't change your mind
about what you believe

So I'll crawl under covers and ground I once tread
Hide for centuaries
catch motes
dig moats
and leave, my love 

And with time the badge you pinned to yourself
might grow over
You might find the way.
You might find me
and wake me.