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April 8, 2023_Kristi Derkacy_Poems

Updated: Apr 13, 2023

By Kristi Derkacy


 

Chest

There is a whole Universe inside my chest

and my Heart is the Sun that neither rises nor sets

But it does eclipse from time to time;

the swirl of energy sets its course

to turn and turn, becoming a black hole;

swallowing everything it can,

the universal devourer, before it

bursts open again and pulsates

one billion new stars, burning aflame

in the cavity of this Universe.


From these stars will come a thousand ideas,

one hundred places that I will go

whether here on Earth or in the land of dreams

or anywhere a trance can take me;

these stars will form constellations,

their light qualities attracting energies

from other universes so that they become

a giant matrix in an endless sky.

The dark matter, the stars, the sun,

and the wind want to take up space--

to stretch out over endless territory

and proclaim their Beauty to the Night.

They will also shrink and contract and

sometimes they will even die or explode

or simply fade away because everything

is temporary in this unseen universe.


Unseen but felt is my Heart,

the eternal star of the I AM,

known through the Ages, through the lands.

to the Ancestors, through the wandering

River of the Milky Way and

woven with the great ribbon of Life.

That is my Heart.


Sovereign queen of the Universe

that is inside of my chest.

 

Anyway

Past lives, past versions

we came together

but fate intervened.


We know each other

from long ago.

In a time that

predates the linear

we met and

a strong bond

was formed.


There was a stitch

in the folded patterns

of Time

where you knew

all of the steps

to my dance

and I knew yours

as well.


I can't remember

a time when

we were strangers

but equally cannot

remember how we met

and who we've been

to each other since.


Our bodies show

different ages

our lives have

pursued different paths

but still they touch

and when they do,

a memory of

something older

and stronger

--a frisson of meaning

ripples back to us.


You smile and

I see it in your eyes.

I laugh and you

hear it in my voice.

Deep down we know

and we've always known:


we can walk

a million miles

in opposite directions,

can incarnate as

this or that

--different forms of you,

a full variety of me--


And yet through

time and space

and iterations of recognition

we call

it Love anyway.

 

Sorrow

Sorrow sighs deep within me,

a sigh that sings prelude

to a mighty chorus of sobs.

Tears and grief

of the ages.


It rolls through my chest--

nameless, faceless

but omnipresent, omniscient

From whence it came,

I do not know.

It could be some past

visiting me one last time--

or maybe a future

that will die

and I will come to mourn.


Grief, sorrow--

they are not linear companions.

Their stories are circular

and if it is not one thing

then it will be the next.

on and on.


So much sorrow.

So sings my Heart.


I can be lost to tears

because it is my human duty to be so.

To grieve and to hold myself

as a precious delicate vessel

of such raw, infinite

transcendental emotion.


To weep is to know

some part of life

in its existence, whole.

Un fragmented.

Complete and ready

to dissolve itself

back into the Mystery,

leaving me with a space

to return to water

through a thousand tears

again

 

This Apathy

The morning rises

replacing the dreamscape.

I carry in the apathy

that I traveled with

overnight.


Winter mornings are silent.

No birds to rouse me.

No entering heat to warm me.

I think, "I am alone"

and therefore, I am.

My mind wants to

eddy on something

but doesn't know what.

My heart is still

and whispering too quietly

for me to hear.

My state of being swings

between the allness

of the Divine

and absolutely nothing at all.


This apathy feels old--

too old to tie to

my mother or grandmother,

though I know

they've lived with it, too.

The ragged DNA cells

of a long suppressed matriarchy

try to open

like premature buds

in the spring

only to die and wither

once more.


The ancestors knock knock knock

gently on the door

of my awareness

and await my bid

to allow them enter.

They walk with me silently

never far away

until then.


Change is happening

but apparently not for me,

and maybe not fast enough.

The life I long for

seems tied to the end

of an invisible

and never-ending string.


We must rejoice in the journey

I know this.

But today it feels difficult

to even want to feel

simple things

like the opportunity

to once again

greet the day

and be alive.

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