Perfect Storm

(For Mridara)

She’s a perfect storm of Spiritus Mundi and existential angst.
She’s the primal fire that burns hotter than the yellow sun.
She’s Vincent’s “The Starry Night” and Frida’s “Self-portrait with Thorn Necklace and Hummingbird”.
She’s the one you wish would call when night presses down on you like bullets from a jealous gun.

I was alone.
I was quaking in my own ill equipped self-confidence.
I was rationalizing everything by living in the moment with denial as my co-conspirator.
I wasn’t and that was not much fun.

Break open the Earth with your hands and mouth.
Break down who you are by questioning everything and allow chaos to become your North Star.
Break through constancy with the passion of an invincible Saint and refuse any and all limits especially when they have been introduced through self-doubt and self-recrimination.

Our feelings are never counterfeit when we are an honest broker with the God that lives inside us.
Our feelings are never circumspect or circumstantial as long as we forestall addictive remedies by crashing through empty promises and empty declarations of love.
Our feelings will never let us down as long as we face them head on and stare straight into the dragon’s warring eyes.

I desire her.
She’s a perfect storm of questions questioned and answers left by the church’s door.
I am inspired by the word-poems she creates and how these structures float so freely in oceans of space.
She’s a perfect storm of new dawns and ancient autumns turning around and around like a cosmic pinwheel on a perpetual quest for self-knowledge.
I desire to hold her when the April rains arrive and our blue raincoats serve as no more protection than our blue moods.

Charles Cicirella
3/25/2012