I told you I’d write a poem for you…..

I told you I'd write you a poem.
I've stared at the blank page over and over again.
Everything I write comes out cheezy.
How to say what I want to say
when it's all tangled up within me?

I remember you , thru my young girl eyes...
I don't quite know what I felt then.
Attracted to danger, to life, to risk.
Attracted to freedom, to leaving the confines of
my little world. 
I found it. I traded my innocence for a peek
at the underworld.
There were times I hated you. Felt you
deceived me.
There were times I hated myself, for allowing
you into my sacred soul.
There were times I loved you. Wanted to
save you from yourself.
There were times I loved myself. Felt strong
and deep and whole. 

I remember you, thru my femme fatale eyes...
I don't quite know what I felt then.
Wanting to give you danger, life, risk.
Wanting to show you freedom, drag you from
the confines of your little world.
I gave it. I lured you into my underworld.
There were times I craved you. Wanted to
show you how a woman Fucked.
There were times I craved myself. Wanted to
feel at home within my skin, my bones.
There were time I needed you. Wanted to 
own my own soul, to understand. 
There were times I needed myself. Wanted to 
return to my innocence.

I told you I'd write you a poem.
And this one doesn't rhyme.
Sometimes It takes a different style,
a different voice, to share what we find.
Somehow you have been woven into my
life, woven in and out of scenes and dreams.
Always reappearing at the crossroads.
Did I ever imagine you would be a constant
symbol on my path....showing up
when I least expected to find
you?
Did I ever imagine you would trade your darkness
for the light,
grasping for truth, craving deliverance,
sustenance, salvation?
Did I ever imagine you would bask
in your role as father, nourisher,
provider, redeemer?

I told you I'd write a poem for you.
A different kind of poem than the poems
I wrote long ago.
A poem filled with experience,
with living and loving and coming together
and coming apart
and coming over and over and over again
in many beds and in many scenes
and in many dreams of things
between the seen and unseen burial mound
of things freed and things redeemed.
I imagine you now, alone.
Solitude! Aloneness. There is nothing more
beautiful, to know oneself. To understand
the magic within, to anticipate the patterns
and habits and  mind-traps, and to remove
the obstacles from your path.
Growth. Evolution. From Youth to Wisdom.
From Faith to Understanding.
Don't walk blindly, the road is peopled
with parts of you,
parts of your life, parts of your truth.
Wake every cell, wake every mourning
dream, take everything given you
and Breathe.

I told you I'd write a poem for you.
There is so much more I could say,
so many things and feelings and memories
wrapped around the images
in my soul. In my heart.
There are many roads, and they all lead
to Self.
There are many dreams, and they all lead
to Life.
In my heart, you are whole. You are the Waker,
the Taker, the Thief.
You are the Faker, the Breaker, the Jester.
You are the piece of me that spoke to me
of possibilities and ether dreams.
A decade has passed, or more, since our lives
were interwoven.
A decade of different stories and dreams
and lovers and smiles and fears
and tears and things left unsaid...
This is the poem I told you I'd write,
scribbled out in rouge, bled
from the heart beating, within me,
a rich pomegranate red.

6-20-2009
For an old friend