Peony - The Dignity of Being Soft and Strong

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    Mornings sometimes begin with a heaviness that belongs not to the physical body, but to memory - that deep, concealed memory of the cells that remember every expectation imposed upon us from the outside. Light creeps through the linen curtains slowly, sparse and almost timid, as if afraid to disturb the dreams still swaying in the shadows of the room. On the wooden table, right where the first sunbeam touches the surface, stands a vase of peonies. Their bloom is opulent, heavy, saturated to the absolute limit -  like a heart that has allowed itself to be filled completely , without fear of overflowing, without guilt for taking up so much space. I gaze at them in the quiet of the early hour and think of those days when everything within us required us to be small, convenient, quiet, and unobtrusive, so as not to disturb anyone with our presence. The peony makes no apologies for its fullness. It is not frugal, not modest in the display of its life, and does not strive t...

Alone

 


Alone in my captivity, lost in despair,
I wander, dragging my garments in air.
The weight of it all, crushing me down,
In myself, time's stopped, in silence I drown.
In timeless childhood, stolen breath by breath,
In soulful fields, where I take flight in death.
I soar and return, fueled by desire,
In dreams awakened, here I lie, a crier.
I've lost myself in my realm's dominion,
In ceaseless seeking, my relentless opinion.
Day and night blend in their passionless fight,
For my smile to bring peaceful light.
But peace in the burden, aching and sore,
A sickness from war's loads, my being tore.
Where did I lose myself, once content and calm?
In heaven's embrace, I gave up my qualm.
The birth of rain in love's tender spell,
I hide from it, run and dwell.
For it, I divide myself untroubled,
In its magic, my heart's bubbles.
The dawn of morning's feeling's here,
I return, love, seeing me clear.
I am her reflection, and she'll see me tomorrow,
I move the pieces of myself in my sorrow.
Locked, shut, torn apart and divided,
Forgotten, discarded, torn and derided.
Alone and weeping, powerless, still,
Torn apart, hopeless, with hope killed.
Will I find myself again, I wonder?
To connect my disjointed pieces and ponder.
I'll make my move and win this game,
In boundless unity, I'll know my name.
The only feeling is pain, I breathe it deep,
Accepting it, in its mission I leap.
Tasting it, feeling it, I am it, I love it,
I give birth to it, in my seeking, I covet.
Overflowing, intertwining, enclosing, I ache,
Unraveling, separating, in pouring, I wake.
From myself to myself, let it happen, I'm eternal,
In remembrance, discovered, loved, I'm internal.
Blind in seeing, in sensations, I age,
In whispers of soft words, I engage.
I commit ceaselessly to my finding, I reign,
And here, on eternity's doorstep, I'll gain.
Love, in timelessness, clad in its attire,
Wordless, silent, speaks to me in mire.
Hopelessness, impossibility, swiftly embrace,
Forgotten, alone, in soul's understanding's grace.

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