Thursday, February 6, 2014

Facing Truth at the Top of the World (A Poem)

Look! I stand far above the horizon,
naked in the breeze,
with only you
and the guy who
is camping in that old Mercedes,
and he's asleep from what I can see.

I wish I had more time here in the sky
where every bare pore
clamps itself shut,
and you ask what
this means, why I'm exposing my core
and how this can satisfy my needs.

The unseeing mountainside rolls downhill,
away from your gaze
I am pale, bare,
and cold. You stare.
In that wild and elevated place
for three heartbeats I'm perfectly free.

Nude above the treeline, I finally
live with my body
with no distance,
no dissonance,
between myself and what I should be,
and it feels good, but you won't join me.

Now, once again, I must let myself down,
ruin nudity,
let comfort go,
and whisper no,
quietly killing serenity.
Time to go back to being perceived.

Donning cover, I slip inside myself
and hide my nature
under clothing
that knows nothing
of the personal war I obscure.

I walk to the car in quiet grief.