beeswax, damar resin, paper, mixed media
2015
Listen Below
I tried to unthaw you
holding your letters to the light
peering into your backpack-
faded blue
searching
wishing
digging
for some missing clue
if I climb this forsaken mountain
and get tired can we meet halfay?
I’ll wear your silver bracelet,
binoculars and blue eyes
I’ll bring your binder
and blueprints
what was yours is now mine
it’s like a treasure hunt-
with no gold
sailing the high seas
nauseous and brave
I don’t want to be brave anymore
I wanted you to leave me a note too
I want to find that x
I want a place to put down these
wilted flowers and roots
I want to feel that frozen soil
underneath my nails
"Whether they be the ghosts of those we have loved and lost or the specters of inner doubt and unknowing, we are all haunted houses, yet most of us are afraid of meeting the uninvited apparitions that drift quietly through the corridors of our mind. But these messengers carry a word that we need to hear, a word that can not only open us up to new life, but transform the closed communities we find ourselves in." Peter Rollins
there is a space between:
heaven and hell,
past and present,
reality and fiction,
feeling and addiction,
-us
Bonus Poem:
am I your living urn?
ash enclosed in flesh?
the bearer of your code?
your place of final rest?
but I do not have the key
all you left are these blue eyes
they only see what’s out
they can not look inside
if I click my heels three times
did I have it all along?
do your ashes form a map?
do they point the way back home?
or are you the wizard himself
hiding behind the screen?
I want what I can’t have
I want your dust to breathe
katrinagrabner.com 