Bring me your excess and your unreason.
Bring me your broken hearted devastation
At the state of the world, your passionate desire
For something better, your idealism,
Your most irrational hope and wildest optimism.
Show me the places where you are
Almost unbearably tender, already shattered,
Wounded and healing, dripping sweat and tears
Show me your scars. The ones the world inflicted
The ones you made in your own skin
Out of grim necessity, the need for art,
The quest for some kind of meaning.
Tell me the outlandish stories of how
You came to be here, tell me the preposterous
Dreams that define the path you mean to take.
Share with me the warmth of your hands
On my hands, the warmth of you leaning against me
The sacred, magic circles of arms and holding.
Share the rites of passage, the rituals of meaning.
Give me the parts of yourself you are most afraid of.
Give me the weight of your shame, your loneliness.
I am hungry for these things in ways almost no one
Understands but perhaps you are one of the few
Who can cough up jagged truth like owl pellets
And breathe the flames of your most unacceptable self
Into my life. Bring me your unspeakable longing
And your existential fear, tell me what is
Worth dying for, and harder still,
What is worth living for.
And perhaps I can kiss the part of your soul
That was always unkissable and perhaps
I can bring my too raw, bloody and dangerous
Tenderness to the parts of you that you fear
And perhaps there are enough of us we can
Devise new ways of being in the world
With our tendencies to bleed to death when wounded
And scream in pain and ecstasy
And set fire to ourselves
And love everything too fiercely
And ourselves not sufficiently.
Perhaps we can talk about it all night.
We can make sense of it a little,
Make welcome what we keep hidden in the dark
On the inside.
Bring me your excess and unreason
That I may promise fantastical things
And weave life out of that dreaming.