Frontiers

I don't want to plan your future.
I want you to be happy right now.
I want to hold you in my hands as you blossom.
I want to shower you with joyful moments,
seeded with promise.
If I can lay a foundation of wonder
and strength for you to grow on,
I can trust your future
to branch out in beauty.
I can believe you'll go
in directions I've never even imagined.
I can look in your face and believe
there is so much for you to thrive on.
Your future is too big for me.
But right now
I am here for you completely.

(c) Tasha Chinnock 2010

A Frozen Moment

Standing on the watershed
of a century-old mine,
where thick ice paves
a surreal walkway
over tumbles of water.
The great, polished granite
that ushers this rindle
down the mountain crevices
is balanced
by skyfuls of evergreens
towering up the steeping slopes.
Winter birds - the juncos and flickers - survivors,
are hinting at things
with conspiratorial chirping.
And the wind
through winding tunnels in the earth
is moaning secrets
not meant for my naive ears.
The tissue-thin air
is hypnotic and dangerously freeing.
In this cold,
on this magical frozen stream,
at this altitude
a person could feel anything,
could think sacred thoughts
and soar into fairy tales
with eyes gently shut.

(c) Tashas Chinnock 2010

Regimen

Be thankful for fatness
It is contentment
You have all you need
More than enough
The love and security
To sleep at night
The passion to wake famished
Demanding a big breakfast
The leisure to cuddle on couches
You are fat and happy
Because you know your future
Waits for you like
A familiar friend
Who stands in an airport.

Don't admire my lean bones
Ribs and hips and angles
Of shame and sorrow
Do you envy prisoners of war?
Or concentration camps?
A diet of worry and grief
A workout of nausea
My aereola look bigger and bigger
As the rest of me shrinks
Like huge, bulging eyes
Staring in shock and fear
At the dark future
Without the comfort of food or couches
Or a strong embrace.

(c) Tasha Chinnock 2010

Captive Thought

He stands startled
In a sequestered corridor
Slender and meandering
Like a swan neck, a champagne flute
He takes a step
Heavy with dread
Down this hall of thought
This stem of philosophy
A conduit, a pipe of dreams.

He didn’t want this
Never wanted to be here
Unrelated, quiet
Impervious to nearness
And cold as a death rattle.
Where is the sunshine?
How far is tomorrow from
All his yesterdays?

Yesterday is the sound
Of a rose blooming
Its red thundering like chariots
Into the dark of today
Dried and dusty
A crumble of neglect.
He can’t recall
Can’t pull it together
And the weave unravels
And falls in coils
Under concrete feet
Under a spell
Where lies are whispered
So very well
And darkness boils in
Like storm clouds.

Strip it bare
Release the echoing reverb
Into fresh air
Set him free
Let his thoughts spread out
Into everywhere
And the lies disappear
Let the truth line up
And speak order
Repair.

(C) 2010 Tasha Chinnock

Written in the Wake of Calamity 3/4/10

Walking in slow motion
Moving through icy tunnels
Silent and spooked
without you, without
You
Who am I and what
do I do?
How do you explain
one half of a whole
but empty like nothing?


When the moon is shining
through the window
when the dawn is creeping
to my lids of glass
How can I roll over
and make you be here
smiling at me
comfortably
like a love letter?


When both of us
are stunned to silence
and pain is written
on the backs of our hands
to remind us
to warn Do Not Return
But our hearts return
we regress so easily
to simple forgiveness
that costs everything

(c) 2010 Tasha Chinnock

Keeping Awake

It seems a shame to sleep;
to waste all this lovely silence.
Hours and hours I have
all to myself,
while the blessings
and burdens of daylight
are tucked sweetly away
and the naked night,
Precious and peculiar,
stretches out like a sea of onyx.

It is not insomnia
but stubborn indulgence
that keeps my lamp ablaze.
I will have this time,
Though my eyes burn
and my shoulders ache.
By rights it is mine
And it will serve me
And I will use it up,
Filling it with silence of my own.

Hush, pillow, I'll get to you
when I'm ready.
Leave off, dreaming, wait your turn.
The quiet isn't finished yet.

(C) 2010 Tasha Chinnock

Lessen

Make me less of a woman

Less soft and more firm

Not so smothered in feeling

A rock undisturbed.

Free me from being a woman

Slave to moon and tide

Undo mood and desire

And all their lies.

Make me less female, girly

Needing a man’s caress

Thriving on word and gesture

Make me less.

Call me andric, ascetic

Eusocial as an arthropod

Wanting no affection

Pure as a god.

Take away curves and cravings

And love songs played in my head

Stop up my teary eyes

To be stoic instead.

Make me less of a woman

I hate to care so much

To want his arms to hold me

And feel his touch.

Make me less of a woman

And if you can’t then please

Give me someone man enough

For all my needs.

(c) 2010 Tasha Chinnock

Phantom

He is here
stalking around like a dark ghost
haunting my house
hovering my heart
I am bedeviled by his nondescript nearness.
I can just make him out
but there's no denying he's here.

In times past
a priest would come and rattle off prayers
as the dead rattle their bones
and exorcise the specters
that tormented women like me
Or some gaudy, draped clairvoyant
would roll back her eyes and try
to communicate with him.

Ha. Communicate
This ghost will have none of that
he is merely here, possessing
not at rest, but wanting nothing more
just to keep being here forever
appearing and dissipating
howling then surly
Driving off the living.

He walks by with a chill
his voice - an eerie sound
his touch - lifeless
his eyes - hollow.
We are spooked by his empty presence.

Hope

I'm waiting like a blind man,
a prophet
Expecting what no one sees.
I'm trusting against
my senses
I'm waiting because I believe.

I believe because I know you.
With your true eye
that sees deep and far.
I know the pure heart within you
I know
this is not who you are.

I know you're the man
who loved me
And asked me to follow along
on a road we knew
wouldn't be easy
But the One who you followed
is strong.

He was strong
when we walked in a war zone
He provided us
raiment and bread
He healed you
when you were broken
And for every transgression
he bled.

A transgression
cannot condemn you
or snatch you out of his hand.
And I'm trusting in Him
to reclaim you
and to give me back my man.

My man, your heart
can trust me.
I've been here and
always will be.
I believe in, not just God,
but in YOU
to be a husband to me.

(c) Tasha Chinnock 2010

Epinican

We’re singing the song

That can’t be learned.

Its built into us

In darkness, in fire.

It’s the aching moan,

The lonely sigh,

But the chorus is a glorious

Battle-cry.

Stone by stone

Without mortar or tools

An altar is set up

That carries the tune.

It’s a song of grief

That has made us wise

And of trusting in unseen

Victories.

A chorus of hearts

Once broken, now bound

Will soar to the heights

Lifted up on wings

With strength we don’t have,

Like this world’s never seen.

For the song that we know

Tells of conquering.

(c) 2010 Tasha Chinnock