The Story Teller

I yearn for happiness
I ask for help
I want mercy
And my love says:

Look at me and hear me
Because I am here
Just for that

I am your moon and your moonlight too
I am your flower garden and your water too
I have come all this way, eager for you
Without shoes or shawl

I want you to laugh
To kill all your worries
To love you
To nourish you

Oh sweet bitterness
I will soothe you and heal you
I will bring you roses
I, too, have been covered with thorns.

~ Rumi

I want you to tell me about every person you’ve ever been in love with
Tell me why you loved them, 
then tell me why they loved you

Tell me about a day in your life you didn’t think you’d live through
Tell me what the word “home” means to you 
And tell me in a way that I’ll know your mothers name
just by the way you describe your bed room when you were 8

See, I wanna know the first time you felt the weight of hate
And if that day still trembles beneath your bones
Do you prefer to play in puddles of rain
or bounce in the bellies of snow? 
And if you were to build a snowman, would you rip two branches from a tree 
to build your snowman arms?
Or would you leave the snowman armless for the sake of being harmless to the tree?
And if you would, would you notice how that tree weeps for you 
because your snowman has no arms to hug you every time you kiss him on the cheek?

Do you kiss your friends on the cheek? 
Do you sleep beside them when they’re sad, 
even if it makes your lover mad? 
Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion
or just the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain?

See, I wanna know what you think of your first name
And if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mothers joy when she spoke it for the very first time 
I want you tell me all the ways you’ve been unkind. 
Tell me all the ways you’ve been cruel. 
Tell me—knowing I often picture Gandhi at ten years old beating up little boys at school.

If you were walking by a chemical plant, where smoke stacks
were filling the sky with dark, black clouds, would you holler, “Poison! Poison! Poison!” really loud or would whisper,
“That cloud looks like a fish, and that cloud looks like a fairy”? 
Do you believe that Mary was really a virgin? 
Do you believe that Moses really parted the sea? 
And if you don’t believe in miracles, 
tell me, how would you explain the miracle of my life to me?

See, I wanna know if you believe in any god,
or if you believe in many gods. 
Or better yet, what gods believe in you. 
And for all the times you’ve knelt before the temple of yourself, have the prayers you’ve asked come true? 
And if they didn’t did you feel denied? 
And if you felt denied, denied by who?

I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror on a day you’re feeling good
I wanna know what you see in the mirror on a day a day you’re feeling bad
I wanna know the first person who ever taught you your beauty could ever be reflected on a lousy piece of glass
If you ever reach enlightenment, will you remember how to laugh?

Have you ever been a song? 
Would you think less of me if I told you I have lived my entire life a little off key
and I’m not nearly as smart as my poetry 
I just plagiarized the thoughts of the people around me who have learned the wisdom of silence

Do you believe that concrete perpetuates violence? 
And if you do I want you to tell me of a meadow where my skateboard will soar. 
See, I wanna know more than what you do for a living
I wanna know how much of your life you spend just giving. 
And if you love yourself enough to also receive sometimes.

I wanna know if you bleed sometimes through other people’s wounds
And if you dream sometimes that this life is just a balloon 
that if you wanted to you could pop—but you never would because you’d never want it to stop
If a tree fell in the forest, and you were the only one there to hear it,
if its fall to the ground didn’t make a sound, would you panic in fear that you didn’t exist
or would you bask in the bliss of your nothingness?

And lastly, let me ask you this: 
if you and I went for a walk, and the entire walk we didn’t talk, 
do you think eventually we’d kiss? 
No way. 
That’s asking too much
—after all, this is only our first date.

~ Andrea Gibson 

You cannot hide forever, though you may try. I’ve seen you in the kitchen, in the garden. I’ve seen the things you have sewn—curtains of dawn, twilight blankets and dresses for the sisters like a garden of stars. I have heard the stories you tell. You are the one who transforms, who creates. You can go out into the world and show others. They will feel less alone because of you, they will feel understood, unburdened by you, awakened by you, freed of guilt and shame and sorrow. But to share with them you must wear shoes you must go out you must not hinder you must dance and it will be harder you must face jealousy and sometimes rage and desire and love which can hurt most of all because of what can then be taken away. So make that astral dress to fit your own body this time. And here are glass shoes made from your words, and the stories you have told like a blower with her torch forming the thinnest, most translucent sheets of light out of what was once sand. But be careful; sand is already broken but glass breaks. The shoes are for dancing not running away.”—Francesca Lia Block

What happens when two equally lonely and empty people connect? In this relationship, it will be harder to keep up the fiction of love. Now there are two people demanding love, companionship and fulfilment while neither of them is in a position to give these things. The relationship is similar to two hungry people, both without any food, or two business partners, both without any capital. Since neither of the partners is in a position to satisfy the other, they will perhaps drift to the simple path of sexual gluttony. Although it brings temporary satisfaction, it inevitably causes boredom and a sense of not being truly cared for by the other partner as soon as the moment of pleasure is over. Both will alternately feel hope and disillusionment. They will feel hope when they believe that things can go very well and disillusionment when they see that things really do not get better at all. ~ John Baines