hunger

PERMISSION TO RISE

Am I brave enough yet to emerge,
to escape the regret,
to dismantle,
forget,
to demolish the surge of this
plundering ache,
to curb
and to conquer
and famish the quaking;
this suffering silence;
this violent breath taking.
Am I whole enough yet
to prohibit the shaking,
snaking my flesh with
its mandible gaping,
and I,
an invertebrate
sensing
it
raking
its
claws
like it’s tilling
a field in my pause.

– I AM –

I am soul enough, rousing to roar
– but will this awareness
alone be the door to implore me to forfeit,
renounce,
and withdraw from
this former attachment
to lapse while I stall,
while in fragments
I catch myself falling
before
I submit to this whiplash of
“worth less” and war,

mauling through self-harm,
rejecting my core.

Perhaps in my rapture
my courage will capture
the thrill of detaching,
unlatching,
resolving;
forgiving myself for my lack of evolving;
for dressing tornadoes I’d wade in,
dissolving,
while anchored by nought but
the grief I was holding
by swallowing pain
– almost framing each frame –
as the slower the memories,
the faster they came and the longer they’d last
it would tighten their hold,
and the closer they’d weave they would blindfold
and frighten,
and once I was frozen and broken,
– eyes widened –

they’d leave…

Perhaps fate will gift me
a shift from my history,
to bask in my victory
and mask my past injuries
and race to new mysteries
and questions,
unanswered,
and answers, un-asked
but desperately fancied
as I take on this task
to have finally been caste,
to have grown from my hate,
to have flown past a place
where my purpose was faceless
to race to a moment I have hungered to taste
in a time I had dreamt of
instead of erased –

to a piece of the peace I deserve,
and a truth to embrace.

Will the aching forsake me at last
and the healing re-take me – its journey as vast
as the path it will trace
to re-shape me,
I ask,
and will it profess to regress to
a time I could heave less,
bereaved less, and
survive long enough to emerge
at my boldest and best?

The answer,
is
“yes”.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 13 April 2018

THIS POETRY LAY

My poetry lay hungry,
over-indulged on missing vocals
and absent sound,
under-fed from swallowed emotion
and buried tears –
throat-lumping in the name of opinion
better kept to shadowy under-jaws
and burbling stomach acid;
cocooning noisily with butterflies
of rage whose lead-heavy wings
and straight jacket veins
pin themselves to freedom
with only my dry throat
a means to escape.

My poetry lay hungry
while I feed on its promise
to blanket my attempt
to make it known.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 12 October, 2017

FUTILE

I tire of love and terrorism, the
way my broken heart lay claim
to territory unknown before; the
way the softness of these blankets fall
like bombs in your wake; the
way the hunger for calm strikes and
starves and
feeds in rations; the
way this post trauma stands guard
at closed eyes and
changes sentry as I awaken;
the way it loops itself about my mushroom cloud, and
belts its breath on my cheek. I
tire of scratching at hope like
hope is a trivial blush at another chance. I
grow weary of this kamikaze daze,
my eyes the fluorescence of every wound un-bared. I
ignite from within, limp and lost
from so much exploding without.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 12 July, 2017

BOOK SAUCE (HAIKU)

Taste of me, these words –
a conundrum to lick clean.
Tongue hungry, I write.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 31 May, 2017

SILENCE LIKE WINE

it is not okay
to spill silence like wine
into my emptied heart
for it is already filling with emotion
and the hungry spaces in between
are not for getting drunk

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 24 April, 2017

NOURISHMENT OF THE HEART

Nourishment of the Heart

Nourishment of the heart
feeds a variety
of rising hungers

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 8 July, 2012

THE MOUTH OF SILENCE

The Mouth of Silence

Fluid
the mouth of silence
while the drowning poet
writes to starve the
mind of words

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 22 November, 2015

CHANCE TO TASTE (HAIKU)

Crawl to hungry arms:
inside, the love that builds dreams.
Taste the chance to fly.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 16 October, 2015

APPETITE

Apetite

If I starved myself of food
I would never feel empty
because someone
with a taste for beauty
made you delicious.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 12 January, 2014