Music, poerty, exclaimations
by Katie Berns

this is external. external > internal. internal > external. everything is hard. everything is perfect.


The Cycle

I have cried my body dry. Rung out each drop of mother’s water, feeding the roots of wisdom that will continue to bear children, small forms as we once were, who will endure this struggle for themselves, and cry tears into the well of life themselves too, feeding more small beings, replacing the grandmothers, who will be mistaken, again, as children.


I don’t want to be seen
I want to be felt
Like the wind
Like the vibrating of an ear drum
Like the pause of a breath
That makes you notice again
That you’ve been holding out for too long
The one reminds you that it’s time to sink in
And grab life deep within you
To push it out
With a wild gentle urgency
This is the only thing we really have
I want to be felt
I want to be tuned and hummed along to
I want to be felt.
I want to be moved through parts you forgot you had
I want to be felt
Like a warm breeze
Or a tickle
Or a laugh
I want to be felt
Like a hunger
Sustained and controlled
I want to be the thing that fills you
That reminds you when you close your eyes
That life
Is very sweet
And life
Is temporary
That this
Is the only thing we have


This feeling
Most tender but not in pain
Not numb, or bruised
But deep
Strung with every fiber of my chest, neck
My forehead waits
I nuzzle the moments
I wait

This feeling
Like a womb
Missing and longing to belong
Yet safe
Wrapped in every right
Believing every instinct
Desire is the music
Filling every part of my space

I don’t hurt
I don’t bite or move
I only pray
And I can’t tell if you’re inside or out
But I hear you
And you guide me to squirm in my own knowing
Because it’s right and true
And it’s something of grace

This feeling
Something natural
And if it had a color, it would be red
And how is it that something can be both
Singular and bound
Suffocating and open
Alive and dead