Meet Me at Earth, I Want to See What You Look Like. {poetry}
Meet me at Earth
where even the villains are friendly
this is where God comes to sleep
everything here is poetry trapped in math
horror mixed with beauty
You’ll still be half-mad Arcturian blue, but only on the inside.
Bring all your misery with you if you’d like
If you don’t have enough
soon wait
you’ll be burned at the stake
and it will happen so often you’ll laugh the third time.
Saints and martyrs, they all serve their purpose
then they become boring and turn into poets.
Our shadows will meet here first before we do
they’ll dance
they’ll lie
they’ll laugh
they’ll grovel
when you first become earthbound, you won’t remember who you are, so that you can fully commit to the roles you’ll play.
We’ll only recognize each other after a few lives once you’ve finished paying debts you don’t owe for crimes you don’t know,
but would love to.
There’s no escape hatch or safety clause, but you’ll learn tragedy eventually makes for good small talk, and that joy is alignment with what is.
It’s fascinating
if not bittersweet
how places here store memories and we carry on with our lives managing to rewrite the old with indifference
But grace comes in strange ways
on its own time
when you are looking off somewhere not thinking about anything in particular
The sunrise and sunsets — each one of them is stunning
the colors bleed into opera and compete to take each other’s breath away
the vision never becomes less miraculous, we only grow numb to the beauty.
The beauty
once it’s over,
that’s when we see it — how magical the mundane is
how voices create sound into a stream of meaning
and your throat sometimes resembles a cigarette —
it’s only then that we fall in love with a paper cup, or ourself.
It takes an impressive level of refinement to appreciate life in the exact moment that life is happening
Most only live in reflection,
another face for the same wisdom
but a pale complexion
This is why there is rain
If you want to truly understand the deepest secrets of life, you must be willing to confront the rain
That’s when the eyes get rinsed from their perennial Tupperware to negotiate their sight
Whatever you need will be amplified in the rain.
Somethings
as with anything
are inevitable
Your pain will be measured
you’ll walk around with scales for eyes, asking people what they do to survive.
But truthfully, to compare pain is its own special hell
it’s too relative
comparison at all is the residue of forgetting the innocence of being you.
Oh, please meet me at Earth, I want to see what you look like here
I’ll wait for you to come to terms with being human
the darkest things absorb the most light.
Once you work it all out, let’s be each other’s dharma and never miss a sunrise
and reflect only grace
I don’t want to be the one who throws you into a dark night of the soul this time
I want to be the final card in the spread
the one that jumped
waiting at the footnotes
like a vague decree
sacred messenger
master of none.
***
Sarah Elkhaldy is a writer, spoken word poet, and energy healer trained in shamanic and holistic healing modalities that address soul loss, trauma, supporting the body in detoxification of chronic stressors and regeneration. She is the administrator of The Alchemist, where she shares esoteric knowledge to help humanity gracefully tap into our evolutionary potential. Sarah hosts retreats and workshops in Los Angeles on alchemy and shadow work. She is the author of How to Set Yourself on Fire, her debut poetry book that acts as a hand-guide to the oldest past time known to our kind: existing. You could contact Sarah via her website.