ownership
October 11, 2010
You pass into me, through me. I sit alone in a pew awaiting the bride, silent. And then you are there, beside me, kissing a cheek and pressing my hand. As soon as I question my perception, you are gone.
Fingers of desire reach for you, frustrated. Is this affinity? The cement wall between us cold, an impulse to control time and the space between us. Love offers itself as excuse for the hard surface of wanting; but is it just that i’d like to own you?
As I near thirty, I am stripped of all I believe I know. What is love outside ownership and control? Fickle as wind and less reliable, occasional. Unpromising, bare of pretense. the moment and nothing more, perhaps a string of moments. At most, a memory in motion.
I am a body housing a spirit, I am a spirit traveling in a vessel made of water and fire. Behind me the sweet wreckage of a thousand lives: mother and warrior, teacher and sorceress. Too many loves to name, even to remember. The future releases all contained in the past; the present frees all time to continuity. In death I will shoot into the stars again; in death I shall forget, once more, my will to direct and contain. bursting into countless fragments to find my wholeness, my holiness, unattached to all else.
© 2010 tahminah zaman
