Brock { Abroad }

Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.

I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon…
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments. Read the rest of this entry »

The sun’s rays burn your porcelain paper skin
deeper than mine

Mine;
mine is-
peppered
under the heat,
but you-
you ignite-

shadows speak for the silence we share.

And there’s a purple sunset
playing its twilight orchestra

The stars will soon illuminate our insides
as we pull our penumbra up to our chins
trying to stay warm.

the moon glazes over our eyes
gesticulation, mastication,
all the words that feel so dirty-
taste decadent-
when the day is done.
bathing in the moonlight

Experiencing these past two weeks have really made me re-define what the word contribution means for myself. I’ve made a lot of personal breakthrough through Knowmads In these two weeks, where we have been attempting to better understand each other through 14-minute presentations to the tribe to express ourselves in any way we wish . Realizing what I now understand contribution to be, I knew it was time to open myself up to the group in a way I don’t think I’d ever really shared with anyone before. Hopefully, it will not be the last time I am able to do it either. Read the rest of this entry »