Quiet/Scarlet

There are so many ways to be careful. But careful in high doses simply becomes cowardice.

There is nothing hesitant about the blood pumping through this heart. Nothing fragile about the veins and ligaments and bones in this body. Bodies do not hesitate to function, to need and breathe.
There is nothing subtle in this rampaging desire to be free.  But I have kept my scarlet quiet. Shared this color in tiny increments; shelling it out delicately so as not to waste one tiny grain of red. Careful, careful. As if this is a finite thing, easily quantified and controlled. Scarlet, whether quiet or screaming, is limitless.

So far, I have been a coward.
The hearts of others have curtained away these strobing beats of blood red light. Kept safe from the truth.

That I am a red, wild thing. I do not want to be tamed. I do not want to slow down. I am not sorry. Being nice is always the beginning of emasculation, showing no faith in our ability to survive.
Quiet, quiet now, with kid gloves so soft across my mouth. I'm going to say this slowly. My words will puff out, leave a trail of red stardust from my tongue into the sky.

I am not afraid any more.



Comments

  1. MariaJanuary 17, 2013 at 6:47 AM

    I sure love reading your poetry. We really must get together someday.

    ReplyDelete
  2. FridayJanuary 17, 2013 at 11:15 AM

    Thanks! I always appreciate your input. :) We really do need to see each other. It's been far too long.

    ReplyDelete

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