Let Creation Set You Free: Cigarettes in the Night

In the late hours of
the evening
with screaming, crying,
and labored breathing
Hands of
lightning zinging,
the Mind
busily working,
yet drifting
still disassociating
along the trestles of my bed.

The sway and bounce,
bustling, and teeming
the radiance
of Life,
silently quelling.
Apis, a Monarch
reduced to worker
reduced to slave
eviserated to
gangly being,
a ghost
invisible
along the trestles of my bed.

Once upon a time
where feet once
dangled,
gilded and laud;
where shadows met contours
embracing their
stage;
a juncture of
movement and space.
A silken body draped
in satin
and candle lit spill,
enchanted
by the rhythm
of breath
along the trestles of my bed.

Within satin sheets
and dimly lit
walls bound
by universal
secrets,
unwritten or whispered.
Holding the mysteries,
betwixt and aligned
of rapturous
revival
and static, idle nights
shrouded
along the trestles of my bed.

Thrashed and wasted
spirit and heart
waiting, wanting
for a portent
to warm, to heal
to know all is not for naught.
In the broken
starlight,
with detached eyes
through disheveled hair,
the waft of cloves
and burning
cigarettes
clouded
along the trestles of my bed.

Waiting,
Ever
Waiting
along the trestle of my bed.

In the twilight hour
of the Sun's gentle
rising, the wind's light caress
finds defeated brow
in hand.
And, the susurrus of
sweet, balmy dew
echoed
a fire kindling,
for love and hope
that is
only found
along the trestles of my bed.


© 2014 DNKG Cigarettes in the Night

The Challenge of Forgiveness: Inspired by Craig Taubaum & Co.

An open call on the High Holy Days,

On an eerily quiet morning, as neighborhood dogs slept and birds kept safely to their nests, a song began in my dreams and carried into my consciousness: “Forgiveness, forgiveness, even if, even if, you don’t love me anymore.” Don Henley’s 1989 hit coursed through me. Family lore spoke of the power of dreams and lessons attaching themselves to us upon waking, and openness was key to deciphering the code.

Fumbling through the mix of psychology textbooks, clinical progress notes, to-do lists, and gooey substances upon my nightstand I found my iPhone. I was greeted by seven missed messages from a male colleague, whose company I enjoyed fabulously on a number of occasions. His tone was frantic, content angered, and feelings dejected. I couldn’t hide behind the dark curtains of my broken reality anymore. It was time to peel back the layers and reconcile.   

Inhaling, I called and was greeted by silence. When he talked I listened, admitting that the mirror he held to my soul revealed a connoisseur for “The Game.” Begging for vindication, he cut my soul, “Wow. It took you this long?” Click. Pause. Silence. I scarcely see the morning of that bitter sorrow, but from time to time, I hear his virulent malice not granting my release. It’s that moment of wanting release that chains me, shackling me to memories of his charm, wit, celestial balance and life philosophy.

The greatest gift given by growth is awareness. I became astutely aware that I was responsible for forgiving myself. That no words from a man, woman, or even from HaShem would heal me. Forgiveness begins with pure intent, transformation comes through facing fears, and healing starts when we give ourselves permission to do so. Action is required.

            My dear ones, I challenge you to sing, perform, create, write down your trial(s) with forgiveness this year- with yourself, others, or G-d. What holds power over you? What would you need to release it?

Let Creation Set You Free: Spontaneous Release

Plunge

Throw me in the fire
Let the embers glow
Pitch that match
I won't scream
See the Maven
Endure...
subsuming the
warmth from which 
I dawn

©2014 DNKG