REBIRTHING
Time warp---North Carolina--
my two grandmothers--
the last family gathering
they were both alive.
In a pine paneled room
they sat in wrinkled corners
sad but smiling
in the warm glow of yellow wood.
They sat dying,
the process already begun,
finished within 2 years
in the warm glow of yellow wood.
They slipped away without me
to touch goodbye,
their grand love fading into destiny,
lowered down into the earth’s womb
and cradled there
in the warm glow of yellow wood.
Beyond Meaning
for Sunny, Avi and Paul
12-25-04
There’s a seeming realness of grounded thought
and an awkward fit of another human
in our dream.
We can share space and agree
to be tolerate of illusion.
We can agree to share some meaning in our lives.
Meaning is the weight in our heads.
It could be excessive rumination,
the looped reels of life
or the invisible force behind our acting out,
the dream that makes us crazy or calm
or sure of what could never be but is.
Meaning is the assignment of the soul.
We long for the fire of illusion
that does not contradict
our earth bound reality
but rides along on a higher plane,
something that sparks the aura,
tingles the essence and
sends vibrations through the cosmos.
We long for the embodiment of love,
torn between blissful numbness
and the excitement of too much stimulation
and weighted expectations
all for reasons we do not realize
are substitutes for what we can not know.
River of Life
Pulsating meaning
awakens me to my own love
dancing like lightning on water.
My heart is big with purpose
and all that I nurture.
How do I pull them close
then let them go?
How do I deal with the dying?
I hold on for a while.
I do not shred my notes
immediately.
I save my broadcast recording
of each death
for a few days to weeks.
I am filled with joy
for a painless passing
surrounded by love.
I feel sadness
for the breaking
of an intimate bond.
Finally I shred, erase, let go,
allow the emotions to dissipate
into the cosmos
where the non-charged atmosphere
where they have gone
wraps me with peace.
I am released as I release
and gratitude overcomes me.
I realize each death
deepens me
in this ethereal
river of life.
For Paul Love
03-21-05
You fascinate me.
I saw your angel wings
when we were making love.
Eyes open or closed
I could feel your silky expansion
and flutter of your soul.
You fascinate me
with your tenderness and compassion,
your straightforward kindness
and your logic and technical skills.
You are a machine lover
and a love machine.
However, you puzzle me
when you withdraw,
hinting at sensitivities
I haven’t realized,
the possibility
your tenderness is more
than you can bear.
I am learning when
I open fully
to your love
you open fully to mine.
We flow in our embrace.
It’s been a long while now.
It’s beginning to make sense.
Love, Weirdly
We were
the comfort of a fairy tale
we tried to live,
a waste of time that did not satisfy.
Now the show goes on
in another room.
We are a reality show
edited down to gossip.
We are an older couple
and one of us likes sex more.
We are retiring,
unsure of what we are doing.
We are holding our hands
around a farce,
possibly a slice of love or lust.
We are what salsa is
to an acidic stomach
and we want it anyway
for the unique bliss
we know we have,
for the touching of souls
previously unimagined,
for the sheer beauty
of striking the same note,
vibrating together
almost to the sea.
©2005 Belinda Subraman
