What Lies Beneath

What Lies Beneath ~


Take a long breath.

Hold it deep so that your lungs can remember,

then plunge your face into the water,

breaking the surface holding the world in silent stasis.

Push your arms through,

climb out of the looking glass and cut the binding threads on the broken pieces.

The garden awaits you once you fit yourself to the doorways,

but keep your notebook with the passwords to hand…

There are sculptures tossed like salt over a shoulder,

in disbelieving patterns.

While you walk among them,


for the telltale drag of the grass as they turn and follow,

pickpocketing your realness in hope that it will see them safely

across a different kind of border,

through a gate of other lineage,

for there are pilgrims beyond all imaginings who search.

Paint the sky with the colors running wild,

darting across the path,

etch the leaves on those stark lineless trunks,

marching in sentinel rows,



a blank template for your vision,

your forming words,

your conjurations.

Have you written your destination?

Have you spoken clearly into the recording wind so that intention has no muddied cloak to twist behind?

You have broken your world in your desire

to see what lies beneath.

What you bring to this table is shaped by your tongue,

and you must guard it like a tiny pearl hidden amidst the graceless teeth

in your mouth,

disguise it like symbols tattooed in the folds of your fingers,

as you hold your hand up to the light and trace your prints on the sky

to mark the ways in and out.

What landmarks have you dreamed?

Will you sow with curses?

With tears?

Will there be a bitter harvest and blood red winter?

Or can you hold the tiny doves gently in your hand and call them by their true names

emptied of the arrogant and the driven…

This place beneath,

bought with pain and the highest price of letting go,

shivers on a razors edge..

Will you be an inhabitant

or an infestation?

Do you have the tenacity

the strength

the right 

to see yourself safely through?


To show all your dark and all your light and hold yourself like a tower against the battering,

accepting the storm,

while never bowing to it.

You have gone beneath,


can you find your way back to the surface?

Turn your back on the northern lights play of your fantasy selves,

their bumbling first steps,

and return,

with cut hands raggedly bound and drawing in great shuddering breaths.

And keep that robins egg of revelation,

of wonder ,

of acceptance,



even love

of the shadowed

close cupped against your stomach.

Written over, covered in the rivers ink that will not fade,

curved like swan feathers,

until you unlace your fingers and let them flutter,

watch them rise courageously on the air and filling on the light.

Your fingerprints dappling on them

indelibly marked

spreading like symbols infusing a map.

Leaving you

to forge a new way back.



About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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4 Responses to What Lies Beneath

  1. Intoxicating, Jaye! I especially love the last two lines.

  2. Skilbey says:

    Love this.Compelling.What a pleasure to read!

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