The deep


small rusted tacks                                                      medium_133146861

holding my toughened skin

to bone

to muscle

like pictures cut from a magazine

pinned to the wall


I’ve given up looking for saviors,

no messengers with bright news.


I see only inside

this heart



in the warm darkness

listening to the words spun

from the silk of the stories

we’ve given wings.


photo credit: <a href=””>striatic</a&gt; via <a href=””>photopin</a&gt; <a href=””>cc</a&gt;

10 responses

  1. Leaving oneself open to the world enables one to experience the abundance that is present for all, no one needs a savior, but one needs what one seeks. The rusted tacks are being applied to the largest sense organ; I quote a true poet who knows: ” We are our skin.  Skin is experiential in every sense.  It is our largest sensing organ.” 🙂


    • Poems are like messages in a bottle on an ocean, sometimes a darker one, washing up to shore…resurrected so to speak…to be added to, altered or understood with new insight. When they show up again I pay attention since they have something to teach despite what I think they mean.
      Leaving ourselves open to the world, I see, as the marriage of self and other…a daily practice. But it is open ended without expectation of the nature of abundance.
      The “rusted tacks” is an allusion to my own wrestling with the dichotomy of the savior myth. Not only is there the duality between the “need to be saved” and the “need to save” but, in a larger sense, the separateness implied allows for the savior or the “messenger with bright news” to be obliterated if challenging the
      status quo. This is the darker, far ranging flip side of the myth we are all familiar with in wars and prejudice but it has it’s tentacles in personal relationship as well.
      I so appreciate that this particular piece warranted your comments. And for reminding me that our bodies understand more than our minds will ever know.


  2. Lovely. I appreciate the vulnerable, but true and deep, sense of hope. As well as the stark, vivid imagery “rusted tacks” and “toughened skin” and cutouts from magazines pinned to the wall vs, the deep warmth of the cocooned heart. Very cool to read this in conjunction with today’s poem observing “oddly melodious phrasings”…. Peace to all


    • It’s a gift to revisit these older posts, from the “deep” of January, with you now that it’s April and the season is turning. Thanks Sirena, as always, for reading these posts and for your encouragement.


Leave your thoughts....

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: