The Final Run

There’s a scene I’m investigating in my head. Someone bolting out the door and making a run for it. A home built with someone for many years and they decide to surrender. What makes it unbearable? What makes it worth losing it all? Have they become so scared that they just make a run for it? I don’t know the million reasons. Maybe shame or maybe impatience comes to play and the only reasonable act is the disappearing route. No wordy explanations. It just sucks to think about the long unimaginable void, all the million questions asked… “why?”, “why exactly?”

i’m sorry
i can’t cry,
serve my guilt
upon a silver platter
for you to feast
what’s left of my
dignity; in retrospect,
would i have it any
different, disintegrated–
shoestrings tied once, i
finally came undone.
couldn’t hold it together,
neither for you nor
this final run

© mr gahon 10/15/14


See you, see me

Seeing someone beyond what we see on the outside, that’s the task for every pair of eyes who seeks love. For beauty has its place, but the heart of a person, the beauty in their kindness… this above anything has an everlasting place that no one can topple down.

when your love reads me,
I hope I am a well worn
copy of a novel worth
Gatsby’ s hands
or even Holden
could behold;a heart
consumed by desire–
fire and ice
all of it nice,
but when it comes
to love, I want only
your eyes to read me
through,
thoroughly and
beyond, cover to cover,
every last page
accounted for

© mr gahon 10/8/14


Enemy

There are many things I am not ready for. Forgiveness being one of them. To love means to forgive, and sometimes I don’t know how to take on an enemy’s greeting. All I know of what makes sense is that we have to accept even this kind of effort from our enemy, nemesis, name it what you want because love, in the right context, won’t seek to harm us. Our love is so powerful that it will shield us from even our enemy’s intent.

the desert sun cannot repair this tear,
nor flames that revived us once
extinguish these caustic arguments…
instruments avail with reason to piece us
back together, but forgiveness is a hill
that leaves me breathless each time I walk
its path… I plunge deeper into my own flesh
in hope, one day, I shall learn to let go

© mr gahon 9/17/14


Open

The process of opening ourselves to love, it is a bit like a clam or oyster shell. It needs some energy, some elbow grease sometimes to get at the juicy clam or that lustrous oyster. So worth it after we open it (that is if we aren’t allergic to shellfish). Same with love, I think. Except that elbow grease must be courage paired with persistence of faith. One crack might lead to a wedge and one wedge might lead into a gap and one gap might lead into a ravine… ahhh, the possibilities of love.

in you, I believe
a world in this crevice–
our indifference cease to
exist when mouths open and
we are swallowed inside
the belly of a whale
to contemplate the silence
in our breaths right before
our lips touch and we
purge whats left of sin
and thoughts so long
as we are consumed
only by one another, I shall
continue to sink myself deeper
into the crack until love
pries us all open

© mr gahon 9/9/14


Only You

What if there was no one else but the one. The one in our thoughts, the one who makes us absolutely soar and fall at the same time. The one who occupies our thoughts, who doesn’t dare leave even after night fall. Consumed we are…

my body aches
you are medicine
broken vessels heal
themselves
when I take
you inside
(myself)

starvation begins
in the dark I long
for suffused light to
reach the depths of my
unfathomable hunger…

I crave only you

© mr gahon 8/20/14


Math

Love and math. As rare as this combination is, for just a second, it makes sense. Math, the numerical metaphor for this thing called love, reminds us that we are more than numbers in our ages but comparably the rational in something much deeper that the universe is privy to. We can only hope that when we meet this kind of love, that we learn to count the ways towards everlasting.

the sleepless patterns
coincide with pie
and division… endless
multiplication, I imagine,
in theory our hearts
isolated in parenthesis
that straighten up suddenly
into an isosceles triangle–
the geometry of our love,
I hope, runs deep along these
parallel lines; and when they
tire and crash at last, contract
into a circle one (that is)
never-ending, infinite

© mr gahon 8/13/14


when love goes

What happens when love suddenly dries up… all the juices evaporate and not a single drop to fuel what’s left of desperation, the need to salvage what once stood so stoic, so tall, so confident like a Redwood or a sunflower during summertime. To water it, to feed it with the substance that once nurtured it seems so futile and so far from our grasp to revitalize any part of it that we are left to see its very flesh taken away piece by piece, pound for pound until we are left with grams of nothingness… do we dare let love leave in a residual trail of vapors until to hopelessness found?

what piece is left if
any… love, broken down,
apart from air where I am
almost extinguished as this
fire and hope which once
consumed me with the passion
that rivals the Aztec sun;
to sacrifice the heart of me,
I bleed what aspect may return
you to me, restore what life
we may have in the days of
rain cuddled under umbrellas,
embraced by the storm. what
crimes diminished us today, what
lies, what meaningless words
have we tortured each other
that we collapse so easily,
so depleted, so lifeless…

© mr gahon 8/5/14


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