dismantle me –
bones break inside.
ego tries to hide.
from tower to none.
the birth of night
nudges me undone.
stories i have known.
perfect patterns stitched
are suddenly unsewn.
bone and cloth
structure and skin.
this armor held lies
which echo from within.
but now –
dissolve in pure light.
truth and I reunite.
weaving heart and soul
no bones, skin or ego
needed to become whole.
Break of dawn
Unbounded and free
a tower of heart
at once, I am wholly me.
Karen Kaye (July 2014)
She is a black, black butterfly
The darkest mark in the brightest sky,
Wings painfully charcoaled dark as night
By an artist called Life Gone By.
She lingers close to earth and rock
Hiding meekly beneath the winds.
Dare you follow her ever unguided path
of darts and dashes and tortured spins?
For she is a butterfly
too much stillness may bring her death.
So she must exhaust herself!
in reckless movement and baited breath.
The artistry within her wings is vacant
No color nor design define her.
One finds her cocooned in the ice of despair
Hoping faith and mercy unwind her.
For she is a black, black butterfly
And I know her colors well.
I know the sickness of the spell
that bleached lively wings white
then blackens them darkly into night.
I know this little black butterfly
A tiny heart of night.
For she is me,
For she is I,
Just one, little, black butterfly.
Karen Kaye, 2009
There is a gentle swell
infusing the belly of possibility.
As it delicately unfolds before me
it begs me to honor it’s fragility.
“Don’t crush it” – it’s asking me.
“Don’t question me” – it says.
Just let me be, you watch and see
for i will surprise you.
Let me evolve – from cell to body
for you don’t know me quite yet.
Our quietude shall give birth
and cast light upon this vignette.
I know your type!
(it says to me in loving-peace).
You see the animal
and you name the beast.
You see the body
and you judge the heart.
You join the race
and take a head start.
This swell is only the first note
of a song you don’t yet know
I have plenty more to say and show!
Your silence and patience
shall encourage my song to grow.
Wait – Don’t break the stem just yet
when all you see is a weak silhouette.
In my rightful time and space
I emerge with a body, heart and face.
Maybe then you will see it
unless you see your judgement first!
Take me as I am
then come dance with me
vulnerable and unrehearsed.
Come gently to my playground
I only ask one thing.
Can you watch and listen
before you kick and throw?
For I must warn you…
I may be something
your heart has ached to know.
~Karen Kaye (December 2009)