The Attic

Falling to my knees in the snow

Watching soap bubbles

Float

Remembering an attic filled with old dolls

Nuns gliding through the dust motes

Holding their candles up to the darkness

I’ve always felt that I’d left something there.

Long ago.

Somewhere past the narrow stone stairway

The crumbling black stone

A corporeal memory

A sliver of my young soul

The heart’s capacitor

Locked away in a rusting lunchbox.

I had forgotten where the place was

I was a child.

I searched for it

Found it

Stood outside the gates and stared

Frozen

A vision ever foreboding and strict

The subject of a thousand deja vus

The door was chained

The windows glared out with hawk eyes  

But

I wanted to know what it was like

To fall in love

To fix a malfunctioning heart

Thinking I could find that missing piece

Thinking my heart was mechanical

Did I not study anatomy?

Cognitively I must have the understanding that the heart

Is organic in nature

And have the hope

That the heart

Shares the same plasticity as the brain

The resiliency to heal from trauma

And to grow love.

~Mochamantha

 Picture courtesy of: http://sox08.deviantart.com/art/mechanical-heart-II-285580315

Not Alone

 

Can’t you hear my heart

Skipping a beat

Racing faster than the seconds hand

My fingers shaking

As I push the sea into your blood

I can’t breathe

Do I feel too much

For a stranger?

Step through the portal

Needles, gloves, gowns

White tower glows with the pow’rs of healing

Cyclosporines

Ridden internally with disease

My hands slip

It’s your life or mine

Have mercy God.

Sympathetic nerves

Was it like this?

Did they explode, to fly or to fight

When you were born

Woven into a mortal body

A life line

Something so fragile

Destiny known.

True separation

Now that is fear

My terror—unjustifiable

Because of you

You embraced death’s silence—silently

Faced the void

Supernatural love

You’re with me.

So I will love the stranger

Troll or angel

Because the stranger is always you.

~Mochamantha

Picture courtesy of: 

http://mindless-sheep.deviantart.com/art/sea-of-blood-sky-of-feces-1470171

Condemned

She glides into the world

Colliding with the cold wind

Rusting with the leaves

Tears freezing into ice

Cutting fire with her fingers

How does the darkness become darker

In seconds?

She sits idly

Watching complacently as time itself is stolen

Light is swallowed

Mirroring the hasty sunset of her heart

Black leaves like daggers slicing into her oxygen

Suffocation by guilt

And it slips away

The hope

The guilt is mine

The sin

The self destruction

Locked in an eternal labyrinth

Pierced a thousand times 

By the same sword

My own 

I am yours

Save me

~Mochamantha

Picture courtesy of :
http://feraru.blogspot.com/2010/10/frig-fara-tine.html

Shining City

I’ve given you the brightest corner of my heart,

Surrendered my heart to God,

Surrendered you,

I had to.

My blood, my voice, my flower, my melody,

A kind of soul symmetry,

My Gemini,

You know me.

You stop me with a sigh, a single stray tear,

You alter rotation, orbit,

You freeze time,

Stay with me.

The fading leaves, the falling trees—silent sky,

There is still life in this place,

The dark planet,

Don’t lose faith.

Find your strength in the Indefatigueable,

Hidden in your heart—a map,

A Roman road,

Shining city.

You will walk through the desert, and in your wake,

Glittering pools of water,

Incandescence,

Crystal rain.

You will move from strength to strength,

Narrow way to golden courts,

The shield, the sun,

The glory.


~~Mochamantha

Picture courtesy of:

http://www.pricescope.com/files/tutorial/centenary-diamond.jpg

It's the perfect evening. 6:30. Outside it is raining lightly. Dinner is ready, and the smell of fresh brownies wafts throughout the house. The home. And I have time to write.

I feel so rusty at it. Typing out words. Perhaps I sound over-dramatic. But if you know me at all, you know that I am dramatic.

When I chose my career path years ago, I did so already carving out time to write. Now that I have finally "arrived", I find that I am not sure what I want to say.

But my days are filled with emotion. A great outpouring of human emotion. Around me. Inside of me. Something will spill over eventually. Beautiful, sad, hilarious, twisted. Something in words. Something we can all relate to. Something we all need. Something that belongs to us all.

 

( http://www.smartplanet.com/blog/design-architecture/how-to-spark-creativity/4945)

A Star and a Spark

When the warmth, 

Emitted by our star,

Graces this side of the world,

Breathes on my face,

Sinks into my skin.

Something stirs,

Rippling hidden shadows,

Returning blood to my heart,

A flash of fire,

A splash of color.

An ember, 

Quivering within ice,

Desperate for oxygen,

For carbon life,

For anything that burns.

The Great Sun,

Awash in its own light,

Drawing out the smallest flame,

My human spark,
Heat calling to heat.

 ~Mochamantha

Undone

  

Undone

It is a theory

True love comes once

An empyreal moment

Swallowed by fear.

It is the breath

That is stolen,

As the terror sets in

Perfect vacuum.

It is the mind

Sworn to reason

To predicate logic

Simply undone.

It is the heart

Chained, fused, and sold

Bound to a melody

Ever distant.

It is the soul

The human light

The animating force

Dark with anguish.

It is the voice

Raw, strained, shaken

That utters surrender

That is grateful.

by Mochamantha