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About Literature / Student Member Rhy23/United States Recent Activity
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I believe that, one day,
I will stumble into love again.
I have, of course, no evidence for this, 

but I can remember warmth:
a filler of body; a suffuser. 

The part of me that ached
is gone - 
it is. As if the love I had
could hibernate.
As if it could be iced,
put away in some dark spot
for another year.
And yet:

like the certainty that one will return home,
I feel that I cannot escape it. 
They say the lack of empathy is a dead ringer for insanity. I have 
    a new theory:

Too much empathy will singe a small hole, barely noticeable, into your soul...
                                                - Melissa Barrett, "Paraclete"

It had nothing to do with me;
it is easier to believe that I have never loved,
that I was born fresh into this very moment -
that my brothers are strangers,
that I have never truly hurt, 

or been hurt. My mother, if she knew, would cry for days.

I like to think that, each night, I emerge,
damp and dark and secret, from the recesses of self
to tell the new me the new stories I'd believe.
I'd sing lullabies that only I know
until the birds came to force me down again.
Let's call this a susurrus, 
a paean, a maintenance,
a genesis.

Sadly -
the pain is still admissible,
still stroking the small of my back,

except at night, when I sleep, 
when no one touches me,
when no one whispers but me.
For just a moment,
close your eyes. Feel:

the morning's cold light on skin -
the ground's rising to grasp you -
the folding-in of body -

and inhale. There is already air within;
expand with it, and fill yourself. 
There is a forest within you,
and in this forest, a single robin's egg. 

The next time you kiss someone,
do not remember every kiss you've had.
Instead, feel:

the warmth of his hand -
the soft song of exhalation -

and exhale. There is no blame, no hurt
but your own. Unknot your breath,
draw it out gently, let it rest
on the lips of another. 

Out the back door, there is an old tree.
It has always been there,
will be there after you're gone. 

There are no reasons to rush.

Let change dawn on you;
let it tiptoe through you.
Brush its hand with yours, 
smile at its passing,
and know it for a gift. 
Written 1/11/15

Inspired by a morning meditation.
My home is quiet.
I remember:

a tumbling within another,
the catch of skin on skin;
the careful romance of heartache
and its insistent catcalls;
my lover, naked
and reaching.

Let us establish this:
I left for love of no one.
Each night, I stand 
and sleep alone.

And, of course, I dream. 
I open my birdwing hands
and beg for an augury.

Outside the window, 
as if in answer, 
there is silence. 
It is a gift.

Dating was a bad idea. I don't think I'm ready just yet. Such is life, I guess.
Here is the truth of it:
I was born a tree;
I was a nesting-place. 
I gave up my audience of birds
for love.

I tore myself: bark and branch,
root and leaf. I cut it off,
emerged smooth and grasping.
There is a soft beauty in this -
a transmutation of body:
a wearing down of self. 

And here is the truth of it:
I had forgotten the heartwood beneath,
the tree in the dead old tree.
Within, I am green still.
Even now, loveless, I listen
for birds. I hear them:
cacophony, a concourse.
My heart houses a wren's egg still.

I know this: what's at issue is not hurt.
It is the naked self. 
Before, I loved endlessly;
it stirs the wooden bones even now. 
I fear that I have forgotten this:
my heartwood, my taproot,
the dark heart of the skin of my skin -
the place from which I edge.
I fear all the untrees have forgotten it.

A day will come when I will gather them together.
I will tell them: the need is ache.
I will tell them: it is sacrifice. 
It is the bearing of fruit, the offer
of limb despite its aching.
I will tell them: I was a tree, once,
and we will give comfort to cushion the ache.
Self Portrait
Written 12/28/14

I write a new one of these every year. It's fun to look back at them, see how they change. This one is very different from the others so far.

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jade-pandora Featured By Owner Dec 15, 2014
PixelNacht Bleeding Heart - Emote Gosh, many thanks Rhy, for faving my work!

"Late departure, going south"
Rhyiant Featured By Owner Dec 15, 2014  Student Writer
No worries. I always enjoy reading what you write.
jade-pandora Featured By Owner Dec 16, 2014
I appreciate and feel honored by this.
SilhouettedRider Featured By Owner Dec 3, 2014  Professional Writer
Hi! On behalf of dA-WritersRevolution, I would like to welcome you to our group and thank you for joining! :)

We're currently hosting three different literature contests, so if you would like to participate, check them out

If you have any suggestions, queries or need help with anything, feel free to drop me or ThiranosTales a note! :D

We look forward to reading your deviations. :huggle:
Rhyiant Featured By Owner Dec 3, 2014  Student Writer
Thanks for the welcome! I appreciate it, and I'll definitely check out those contests. :)
SilhouettedRider Featured By Owner Dec 3, 2014  Professional Writer
You're very welcome! :D That's great to hear. If you do decide to join in, I wish you the best of luck!
Vigilo Featured By Owner Nov 27, 2014  Student Writer
Cheers for the watch - hope I don't disappoint! :heart:
MistressofQuills Featured By Owner Nov 26, 2014  Student Writer
Thank you for the favourite:D
BlackBowfin Featured By Owner Apr 8, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Congrats on da DD!
Rhyiant Featured By Owner Apr 9, 2014  Student Writer
Thanks! :)
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