I – the brown brittle stem
the stiff spiked round
the shrivel of petal
remembering—
How all was gold
the gasp of light
how blue heaven
fell once in mad sunset love
with my skyglad yellow face
But this new season
cruel of grey
I have named Separation
…….Reach
…….to stop the final petal
…….from leaving
…….from breaking itself into
…….rough wind dust—
…….Rake gone Emptiness
And I— what?
I am a fear I once held
yet curled in stem
laughing at such fears, so far
so impossible– Till now–
dissolved in slow
October grief
in smoke and hoarfrost
cry of crumbling
to the graveyard earth
I lay unmoving
whisper out my days to no one
…….Sunken, tomb’d,
…….for sky, dank earth
…….relentless with worms
…….I am now too small to whisper
…….hold nothing, belong to nothing
…….am— nothing
Know only
the suffocation of decay, a mouth unhinged with
dirt, and the long long
crush of time—
There is no numbering
underground days
no quantifying
nights of no dreaming
sediment days of no song—
…….—Sudden
…….comes a stirring—
…….Coalescence of wakenings—
…….tiny sips
…….of air –unfolding
…….I grow eyes
Look into the small vastness
alive between the black
and find
I am seeded with heaven—
Here, he leans to lay his face against my
dark breast
Here, pushes up from within
to birth
green stairways
>>
Copyright © 2012 Shawnacy Kiker
Oh my God. This is simply spectacular!!!!!! The mad sunset love, the skyglad face…….then the slow crumbling…….slow awakening……finding itself seeded with heaven. I am in awe. Simply stunning writing.
I loved it and how fragile and final it all seemed till your illumination of God n’ the green stairs!
This was wonderful! So happy I stopped by
i am caught off guard with weeping, dearest. and i sit here clutching this brilliant promise to my own dark breast: i have seeds. i have seeds.
i just sent you a voice memo. loving you. xo.
your words are, all at once, delicate and brutal.
this, for me, is the perfect explanation for the beginning of the end:
“And I— what?
I am a fear I once held
yet curled in stem
laughing at such fears, so far
so impossible– Till now–
dissolved in slow”
you’ve honored this season of decay with incredible accuracy and compassion. beautiful. so, so, tender and beautiful. thank you. xo
It’s somewhat Emily Dickinson-esque, though somewhat more expansive than her work–there’s a pretty considerable range of emotions from start to finish. To my mind, the third and fourth stazas are especially fine, but there ain’t nothin’ wrong with the remainder of the piece.
It is so so good to read your POETRY again… All this Shawnacy-ness has unhinged me, and left me swinging from the clouds. I loved it! (Can you tell?)
Vincent would have cried underneath a starry night reading this beautiful work and I am
allowing my misty eyes to go through this work over and over again..This remarkable piece wants me to say- the sun must be a flower and your words are its petals Shawnacy! Yet another great work.