Letters from Xhale the magazine Words that breathe. Stories that Linger,

I wrote "Me, a Mind — a Mine" in three movements, the way a mind actually moves — in fragments, in echoes, in questions that return differently each time. The word play between mind and mine was intentional: the mind is both a place of great treasure and great danger. To dig into it is to risk losing the wonder of what was already there. This poem is about the war between memory and becoming, between what the heart holds and what the mind cannot release.

Part I

Me — a mind, a mine in mind. I tell an unforgetting story, truth and past bound in a line where guilt rises like fever — hotter than Beal's own fire. Me — a mind, a mine of mind. If time leaves gaps, let streams reopen, but gently — for sometimes the flood washes away the wonder of a thread once told long ago.

Part II

Me — a mind, a mine in mine, on some astral plane still screaming your name. Poetic words awaken your flame — of shame, of doubt, of the hope that hangs above. O mind in me, bitter climate, thwart my heart if you must. Tell all impart, beyond my years, for I have felt her dry more empty than my tears. Me — a mind, my heart can't take my selfish conflicts — my chest awakens. Unknown things no one knows, Oh mind, shall I fear? Shall I drown in tears? In intimate time, my love, my dear.

Part III

I mean only my mind — a mind also to me. Connect. Will you share alive? Will you dance with me? Stand often, alert, hear storms that gather. My mind may tremble, seem afraid — until again, it becomes.