ode to playmates

My favorite playmates are the ones that crouch beside me,

feet balancing gently to preserve the sanctity

Of easily snapped twigs,

Eyes twinkling, breathless with the unknown,

as we soundlessly sneak attack the next corner of life.

They are the mad ones

that barrel into the ocean,

howling at elements in pure primal delight (or grief)

bare-assed for God and all to witness,

caring not who sees them in the 

vulnerability of skin

fully embracing humanity.

These ones adapt adeptly

Through circumstance, expectation,

exultation, confrontation, and heartbreak.

Time loses relevancy as our essences

ebb and flow back to each other,

Faces take many Forms

Lover, Friend, Sister, Teacher, Confidante, Partner.

There is stability in their shapeshifting,

and in the darkness of the labyrinth

my fingers grasp onto the yarn laid carefully

so we may find our way

through the multiple lifetimes

That exist in this One.

The yarn is alive with the zapping of synapses

The crackling of connection as our voices come on line.

The rough fibers are twined with willingness

to stay in conversation

to dance in discomfort

To know oneself as one only can

when staring into eyes of demons banished deep

beneath barriers of consciousness.

Blindspots diminish to pinpricks

and the full picture is terrifying

in its unapologetic truth.

Can I love you in your ugly

if I means I must acknowledge mine?

The field is bare, only a few playmates remain.

We huddle, eyes dimmed by waning light

and expanded knowledge of life,

Solemnly we put our hands in

palms pressing backs of hands

The heat of our warm breaths

Co-mingle, a furnace to keep the cold at bay

We crack crooked smiles,

Who will we be now?

It doesn’t matter, we’ll be together,

and go on to play another day.