Friday, October 30, 2020

I, the Bride

 I, The Bride 

Encircled in white,
Like a storm,
Lacing down my face,
My arms,
My body,
To my shoes.
Whispering to the ground 
As I step.
One step wrong,
And my foot will tangle
In the net of my skirt.  
But I keep my head up.
Look forward
Through the fog of this vail.
Don't look down.
Don't look back.
Just cling.
And squeeze the thorny stems 
Of these roses,
Plunging into my sweating palms.

The blood seeps between my fingers,
And I glance down just enough 
Past my flushed cheeks 
And shaking hands,
To see the drops appearing 
On my snow white skirt.
Silent.
Like ink from a pen,
In a letter violently written.

My father leads me by the arm.
This man, 
Who watched me grow
Beneath his roof
And kept these hands 
From running with blood,
Now leads me 
To leave me.

The isle stretches,
As though the end walks away 
At the pace we approach it.
But we can't
Step 
Any 
Faster.
Just inhale,
Step,
Exhale, 
Repeat.  

The faces in the room,
Some dabbed with a tissue,
Some smile till their cheeks grow crimson,
Some eyes fill, 
All full of memories.
Directed at me.
Or rather,
The vail that is me.

Please don't see the woman beneath.
Perhaps if I walk straighter,
Disguise my scarlet hands in the rose petals,
Then they will see a bride.
Pure,
Like a blank sheet of paper.
Flawless as a porcelain doll.
No cracks in her delicate, 
Glass skin.
Saved,
And treasured on a shelf too high 
For violent hands to reach, 
Or greedy hands to steal.
Unbroken.
Untouched 
But for her maker.
Whom she awaits.

Yes.
This is what they all will see,
And what they will think of 
When they think of me.
But will you?

My father slips his arm from mine.
And I am alone.
Alone in front of the eyes, 
The memories, 
The judgement,
The laughing,
The heart ache,
The love, 
The hatred, 
And you.

You and your uncovered face
And your perfect eyes 
That I fell for.
You and your perfect hands 
And gentle fingers 
That pieced together 
My every imperfect portion.
Your hands, 
Calloused and hard.
Capable of  shattering me 
Into a million splinters 
By one simple movement.
Or one simple stare, 
Or one simple word.
And I'm blown away like sand.
Like the dust you built me from.
The nothingness that is me.

Perhaps you could start over again,
Re-build a new treasure for yourself,
Something flawless,
Something you could  call your masterpiece.
Or maybe you wont notice the blood, 
Traced from my skirt to the end of the isle.
Perhaps you wont notice 
The ring that I broke.
The cymbal of eternity 
In two severed ends,
Jagged and twisted, 
Facing away,
When it was meant to be one.
Just don't.
Pull back.
The vail.

Don't love me anymore.
Leave me, 
And remember me beautiful.

But you step closer,
And whisper,
"It is finished."
And the the vail is torn,
Falling in shreds on the tile floor.

I feel your breath on my naked face.
On the cracks in my skin, 
Stinging as the mixture of makeup and tears 
Collects in the crevices.

My burning eyes stray from you 
As though they can hold onto my secrets,
Hold onto my brokenness 
Just a little longer.

I hurt you.
I ran away and left you.
I fell and I broke
And I collected my pieces 
And wrapped them in a white dress 
Like I could be good enough for you again.
But I fell too far.

I drop the roses,
The petals gather about the remains of my vail.
And open my palms.
Look at them.
Do you expect your bride to say 
'"I do"
When the very isle she walked 
To reach you,
Smeared 
From the blood on her hands?

Your fingers touch my chin,
As you gently lift my broken face 
To meet yours.
You're eyes are raining too.
Your hands take mine,
As new flesh fills the scars,
Replaced with blood flowing from 
Your own hands 
To your punctured feet.
The cracks in my face seal,
And blood trickles down your own forehead,
Past your perfect eyes
That look upon me.
Your masterpiece.

"do."













Thursday, October 8, 2020

I Bought Myself a Battle Field





Last year, I bought myself a battle field.
This is my favorite place to fight my worst enemies, talk to my best friend, and make sense of the person I call "myself" and the place I call "the world."