Suspended Ruminations

How do we renew our minds when the ruminations of tender moments and joyous occasions cast luminous projections on these white walls?

Dust settles against the chain of memories stored in faded polaroids that flash through the expanse of our being. We lift our heads and purse our lips as the sting of dried tobacco leaves coats these lungs.

Exhalations through openings into the void as we pace through this empty room. Worlds emanating light from our chests crowning to the base of thorned skulls. Common nesting places for the birds of prey.

Monotonous greetings held together by hand-stitched masks of which we are the craftsmen. Brief exchanges become seeds deposited into fertile sediment ripe with hope yet saturated by tears.

War-torn images dance through this flame. Conflicts arise between conquering these shadows as eternal adversaries or integrating them as familiar friends. Returning to love feels like stepping into quicksand once more. Pulsating hearts held in hand.

A sacrifice to deities of an unrequited devotion as red pulp runs through cold fingers. This journey reminds me that being whole was never about strength. Nor to assimilate to the idea that time will heal.

Like a slow burn to a peaceful death, time suspends this pain. The frost melts as winter assumes its final form. Barefoot in the mud while green sprouts break through the surface wedging between toes now warm.

A clap of thunder through the night in a realm beyond the pines. I awaken in a forest of ghosts that still roam. Wandering spirits in search of a place to call home.

- H. J. Levon