Liquid Light

pushing my face
beneath the shower head
may this warm water wash away
all my tears and doubts and
regrets and worries and longings

they reside there within my soul
cascading down my cheeks and throat
across my breasts and stomach
over my thighs and knees and
straight down the drain
could it be possible?
to never see them again?
oh how I wish!

too soon I must pull myself free
gasping for breath
and the salty tears
intermingled with the fresh water
have taken over
bathing my skin

perhaps one day
you’ll come for me and heal me
cover me with your arms and lips
your hands and body and
penetrate me

pushing out all my darkness
with your glorious light
and I won’t have to understand it
just accept it
your liquid light
cleansing and overpowering
raining down on my thirsty skin
until I’m completely soaked
inside and out
with the essence of you

maybe then
I can look deep into your eyes
and see reflected there
how complete
how whole
I can truly be

tara caribou | ©️2017

9 thoughts on “Liquid Light

  1. I loved the contrast here: between what I picture to be an all-white bathroom of tiles upon tiles – it just has that air to it. Gridlocked, ordered, pure, hard to keep clean but immaculate. It’s like a slate. And then the darkness brought into it, the murk, the dirt of the day and days and months and years, the loneliness of ages, the ink-black spots between strands of your hair that you wash off, pouring into the immaculate space.

    So in a way, the way it progresses is very much like the expressed desire here: surrounded by “cleanliness” but “dirty”, gradually “washed clean” and made like the “clean” room. Made whole, made clean, made not untouched or untouchable but settled.

    Also loved the slight hesitation – can it be that easy? Sure, there’s an “I wish” there, but I also sense a bit of hesitation, a bit of “but what am I going to do without them?”

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes! That explains it quite well. I’m all for neat and orderly and straight rows and columns. Unfortunately, the world and love don’t quite work that way, do they? It is, as you say, with a bit of disbelief and hesitation this was written.

      Liked by 1 person

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