Onion Layers

What depth lies in a person's heart, whole layers swaddling a person's core that never seem to end. I hold a fascination in trying to peel them back but the deeper I get, the more my eyes seem to water and burn. Pain. Joy. Fear. Gratitude. Human life.

As hard as I try to be the objective spectator, my own emotions get in the way. I respond without knowing why. I run without knowing why. I sing without knowing why. I reach out my hand without knowing why. I crave without knowing why. My own infinite core is a mystery to me.

What is the human connection? To be seen. To be seen and heard. I see you. I see your layers, the ones you'll allow me to see. I see it and I'm still here. There is no fear in perfect love.

In gardening, onions don't like to be crowded so they must be planted apart. They are all lined up in the closeness of the other bulbs, all waiting for the sun and rain to fall. We are our own yet we all still yearn to be known.  

Do you ever wonder...

The stars were marvelous tonight. My absolute favorite thing to do is to gaze up at these beautiful twinkling lights. We can see them yet we can never reach them or see them enough. When I was a little girl, I would squint as hard as I could in effort to capture them in my gaze, longing to see them in their fullness.

I forget sometimes that they are there. My worries and anxieties of daily life cloud out the starlit diamonds like the light pollution of the busy city. But every now and then I catch a glimpse of the stars. It slows me down. My breath. My time. My thoughts roam as big as the expanse of the sky. As I stand against the frame, the cold crisp air filling my lungs, I begin to wonder...

Right this moment, who else is gazing up into the sky?

Who are they?

Where are they?

As I'm gazing up at the stars in wonder, is there someone out there looking up at them in hope? In longing? In despair? Fear?

Is there someone looking at them now with a longing for the freedom out there in the world? Or a little girl with her hopes and dreams on a sleepless night.

I wish I could meet them. I wish I could meet them and see the world through their eyes for a little while.

Mark

I cannot bring myself to that point
of cold shaking hands and a stifled breath;
when the memory can only disappoint
a heart already close to death.
So here I sit in a cloud of grim wonder,
daring to take a step towards the dark.
Teeth clenched, emotions torn asunder
as I dwelt into my soul's sore mark.


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Verses discovered on a scrap of yellow paper in between old notebooks.
Penned in high school.