Aiming for a creative life

I Am Santo

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This is delinquent notice. Cordial warnings of the sky’s indifference, a cloud descending in the divisive shatter of a coward’s lament. Hide, you bastard. Let the world cave in around you while bricks of cold drop around you and pray, always, to find the spiritual bond, the angels’ posted bail, to construct igloos from their haphazard fury. A day’s respite and you’ll forget your diminutive status among not only the Gods crowding suspect Heavens, but even among these callous hounds that share your air and misery. In the end each is there for herself, she needs to fight off the saccharine kindness searching for her womanhood, the dark lies that seek the sweet wet of her and the cringe and sleep of his own exhausted efforts. To be adored. To be kept safe in true warmth of her arms. And we’ll forgive over and over again those frail logics that die frozen in the tears of Winter. It’s the human way. Assert ourselves against nature and embrace our own, for better or worse in the silent cling to one another when the days bare their disaffection. It is a way to survive. Nothing more, nothing less. (at Promised Falls)

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