epic

i am an epic story all rolled into one
curvy latin-american body,
where the crescendos and climaxes quickly
dissipate into the straight, if not so narrow
bends of knees and elbows.

i am the heroine and villain all in one-
a one woman bandy of parts to play
where at any given moment medea could emerge
or perhaps ram or even ravenna.

it’s not as if I would have written this story
crafted this person- me, in quite this lengthy stretch of drama
but it roils in my blood and circulates up and down
my body. It is me and craves being embraced and accepted as is.
even the bad spells when melancholy strikes
without warning, no sign or cause to point at
and sigh from relief that this too shall pass,
knowing everything has its time and wishing
this one had a pre-set limit, i try not languishing
in my bed of discontent too much,
but force myself out when i want to stay in,
smile when my insides feel hollow and grey,
quickly look away when i know you are looking at me
But not seeing me.

i pass mirrors and look at times at a ghost
of a figure, a caste in the eyes that makes them look
sullen, flat, lacking the spark and flicker
so often attributed to them.
with my window open, the dark blue sky sucking
out all of the light, if i’m still, quiet and still
i can hear the gentle roar of waves crashing
into the sand. crashing into the sand- and then

i feel a wave of something like peace
or resolute acceptance wash over me,
quietly i sit in the darkness and feel
all is right with the world,
found in a gentle roar, a crashing into the sand,
a Love that knows no boundaries and can never
be revoked.