pour the waves (by Rebecca Chasteen) Monday, Oct 12 2009

Some days,
the music just has to be loud
loud enough
to drive out all temptation to believe in lies
to drive out the numb that doesn’t try

The music just has to be moving enough
to keep me moving
has to remind me of
everything that matters
everything that moves
there is never
nothing
I can do

I can do
something with this
even if it’s
just feel it
even if it’s
just be here

be here
and don’t leave
don’t obliterate myself
on rocky shores
don’t release my grasp
don’t follow their lead
this is what there is to believe-
this is all there is
and this is all that matters

some days
the music just has to be loud
loud enough
to remind me

I just have to be needy enough
to pull it in
anxious
angry
enough
to demand more

pour the waves
pour the waves
pour the waves

my skin is bare
my throat is dry
my stomach waits
my heart aches

pour the waves
pour the waves
pour the waves

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bury (by Rebecca Chasteen) Tuesday, Oct 6 2009

if i could bury myself in this, i would. i would suffocate myself with this. i would place it over my mouth, my nose, my eyes. i
would just let it be the last thing i breathe, the last thing i see, the last thing i think. i
would leave it
just like that. so i would never have to wake up without it one more day. so i
would never
have to look at it from a distance, from an unimaginable distance. i
wouldn’t have to
yell into the void between, the place where my voice never reaches, my words
never matter enough.
i wouldn’t question again why i stand on the fringe of it all, why i
assume
my bridges are too shaky, or my roots too heavy, my intensity too much or
of course, not enough, whatever the argument may be. or that i
am too much or
too little
never again a concern because,entombed in this, i couldn’t be
anything else
but the one who carried this so close it took over and
took my place, couraged me enough to
let go and just
be this
and nothing else, since
i
never really was the rest. i never really was anything else anyway.

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Field Work- documentation is so important (by Rebecca Chasteen) Saturday, Oct 3 2009

There is a psychology to everything.

You’ve got to know
I gather my field observations
and slide them under my microscope…

you’re still driving me crazy
your hands are still warm
warm
on my skin

they are still
the only hands I ever really want

we don’t even have to talk
I can hear your thoughts
we could go forever
we could sit in silence
it’s really all the same

That’s what I already told you

That’s just the truth of us

there’s not a stitch
wrong with what we sew

we hold our borders well
until-
for just a while there
I thought we were mindless
we were
shaking everything down
we were
going to lose all our senses-
drive away,
never come back

I get it
I’m right there with you

I’m placing your hand in mine-
it fell into me this time;

you
aren’t ice
you don’t just shimmer past

what would you have done
if your name rolled off my tongue?

That has me drinking
That has me holding on

my god,
you are
exactly…

you need more time, so do I

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Life’s Breath (by Rebecca Chasteen) Tuesday, Sep 29 2009

I’ve always loved the recklessness

the road warned against

supplies

the breath of life

comes from choosing feeling

the road suggested

comes stealing conviction,

suffocating belief,

handing out grief,

it will work a spirit till it’s weak

and considers falling in line

happens all the time

to even the most headstrong

poison in the heart

making it all seem wrong

making what’s not

look so good

making what is

look like something no one would

hold on to

And the choosers forget why they choose what they choose

and don’t know what is true

or what to do

clarity comes

in so many forms

looks like perseverance pays-

seeking the soul of things

till

the chooser gets back the reigns

and can see

what it feels like

to have been right

from the first step

of recklessness

the gritty sweet

of life’s breath.

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Hope and Stay (by Rebecca Chasteen) Tuesday, Sep 29 2009

If I could find the vessel

that so resiliently

keeps producing this optimism,

I would rip the damn thing out

that would have to be

less painful

than the torturous wait

that hoping creates

always believing

seems so masochistic

there’s no giving up, no numbing relief of indifference,

no walking away

just hope

and stay.

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Tin Men (by Rebecca Chasteen) Tuesday, Sep 15 2009

“I strongly suspect that the capacity for pain and the capacity for joy are equal. Only those who have suffered great pain are able to know equally great joy.” Madeline L’Engle

Tin Men

Sometimes
I just want to kick you (so many of you) in the chest,
break you open
What could you possibly be hiding?
Hiding from?
You must think there’s safety in being numb.
You think there’s no redemption, no healing comes?

It’s really not that bad,
feeling things.
You think everyone hasn’t felt that same
hesitation?
It’s just, there comes a point
where you let go,
until you do
there are things you’ll never know,
never understand.

How good can you possibly feel,
Holding back like that?
Tell me you don’t seek what you lack.

You have logic, and vices, and jokes
but I’ve seen your capacity
flicker in your eyes.
Sometimes when you speak
and words are left waiting,
I see what we don’t say.
You think it falls away?

Don’t talk to me about reason and hurt-
those are just graves,
I won’t wallow in that dirt.
I can’t stand clichéd excuses,
it’s so pathetic
and a completely useless
attempt of defense.

Do you really believe cold hard walls make you strong?
All they are is fear,
leaving you too weak to take the risk.

Countless tin men;
women pour themselves over,
hunting the smallest crack in armor.
Just trying
to give something to make the tin men real.

I can’t count the times
I ache
for you (each of you)
to break open
before you’ve lost too much.

“The waste of life lies in the love we have not given, the powers we have not used, the selfish prudence which will risk nothing and which, shirking pain, misses happiness as well.” Unknown

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Pilgrim Heart (by Rebecca Chasteen) Thursday, Aug 20 2009

I’ve got a pilgrim heart
it gravitates
to caverns
and mountains.

Move
spirit
move.

I seek You
in every place
I ever go,
In every face.

Faith and love and light and rest
coincide with
darkness and
dirty hands.

Deliver,
design,
guide,

my heart’s travels.

Keep me close
and in the perils,
substantiate
every thing.

I dive in
to lakes
and graves
seeking every permutation
of beauty,
every version
of love and faith.

You are every where,
I am set on
finding You there.

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I’m a Giant Kicker (by Rebecca Chasteen) Thursday, Aug 20 2009

I jump into fires
and lion’s dens.
I run up to giants,
sling my stones
and kick their shins.

My armor is well used,
molded in battle.
Every time I come out
a slightly different warrior,
but a warrior all the same.

Sometimes
I’m in the belly of the whale
but I still end up right where
I am
right when
right in
the design.

I have this independent spirit, this pilgrim heart.
I won’t do just because someone told me to.
I will seek – I won’t be told my truths.

I’m this fighter for faith
I’m not satisfied standing by.
I’m not willing to stop.
I breathe only because I believe.

I have these words, these lover’s hands
I speak the mercy I know, what I’ve been shown.
I touch wounds easy,
I know I’m no healer-
but love can be.

I am this spirited, lover -fighter -pilgrim- child.
I am shaped, designed, and carefully wired
just as I am
by this Master Artist’s hands.

There is nothing new under the sun
I’m not the first that stood to fight,
sought the truth,
refused to run.

I’m not the first that begged for yes or no-
that walked for years unsure of where or how to go.
I’m not the first to doubt, or the first to serve,
the first that didn’t listen or crafted pretty words.

I am in the company of sinners and saints, all the same;
all magnificently capable and incredibly lame.

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Haiku Tuesday, Jul 28 2009

I need roots, not vines

what’s the use of wings if I

never get to fly?

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Side step (by Rebecca Chasteen) Monday, Jun 29 2009

I couldn’t slip through
I couldn’t side step you-

don’t worry

the best
can
get beyond the worst
with such quiet calm
they look crazy

and I am satisfied
with my changes

blazes
eradicate
the least important things,
so I’ve never really minded being licked by flames

the more you rough me up,
the smoother I become;
sandpaper against scratches
just polishes me up

I don’t try
to stand above,
untouched

I don’t stop
uneasy,
unsure

whatever label you’ve given me,
just know that I’m more

I can take any shape
and I’m so pliant
I won’t break

So,
I didn’t slip through
I didn’t side step you
I didn’t try to.

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