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Safety’s Murder. {poetry}

“Run from what’s comfortable

Forget safety,

Live where you fear to live

Destroy your reputation,

Be notorious.

I have tried prudent planning long enough

From now I’ll be mad.” ~ Rumi

I feel very nervous tonight,

and yes, I reject safety.

Yes, she is the one I blame,

do you see her hiding behind

her haughty looks?

From now on,

I will avoid her soft, fickle touch.

My ears do not want to hear

her hypnotic lullabies,

False melodies like those of snakes.

Throwing her over bridges

like a withered flower,

she who imprisons us

with her stranglehold,

dries up our proud destinies,

tears our most precious buds

even before spring,

I’m mad at her today.

Maybe I will kill her one night,

when she will not have taken

her clever precautions,

when she will end up alone

in a dark neighborhood

she deems treacherous,

I will throw her

against her wall, heavy,

against her battlement

of peacefulness,

against her cotton clouded cage.

Safety, I blame you.

Calling back our daring ventures

with your ropes,

Teaching our hearts

what you name reason,

snaring us in your carpeted paths,

whispering those cold rules

you dress in wisdom.

Dying to speak to you,

I’m boiling, burning,

Crime is pending.

Run, safety, flee,

my demons against you rise,

flames of the fires you stopped

from growing.

Safety, do you see, you lied, and love illustrates your feeble comedy!

Those burning loves,

which carry us in our cities

like hoping does,

cheerful melodies of our minds,

could we live them with you, safety?

Would it be possible to really love

without losing our words,

risking souls’ bearings,

contemplating our hearts’ defeat?

Without a lover

coming to torment our nights

even in our dreams,

as a sleepless nights’ builder,

bringing with it the eventuality

of a shadow over numb days?

Would you tell me that love

does not plague souls

through our aimless paths and lucks,

that hearts do not receive love

as a gift from unknown divinities?

Would you insult me

by pretending

we do not live those love nights,

those where we shiver

under strange hands,

without taking the audacious risk

of surrendering ourselves

to the other?

Safety,

it seems that

upon contact with you,

no fairy’s love

would know how to find us.

It is with all of destiny’s strength

that you deprive us with such fervor,

not only pouring your icy rain on our loves.

Safety, know that warriors

win their battles with their swords.

To battle!

It is by stealing our places

through boldness and intemperance,

by hauling our words beyond valleys,

by climbing high steps

like soldiers galloping,

that we reach our treasures.

No, there is no

great journey of the soul

without sinuous paths,

no summit without

a mountain to climb,

no proud destiny

without dark doubts,

black fears, those lonely soul’s

transitions.

Turning up our noses

to your honeyed words,

broken sharply, it is with blood

that we reached our firmaments.

Strategists of small battles

and great wars,

cheeky, insolent,

obstinate and proud,

makers of sea breezes

and majestic gusts,

trials, attempts,

mistakes, then success,

our life often handed

on a plate as a guarantee

to destiny.

Safety, we learnt by poisoning you,

slowly and in secret,

by drowning your laws

under the seas,

to vanquish people,

mountains and demons.

You see, safety,

you are dealing here

with insolents.

Like golden beasts

held in a cage,

finally made free,

our willowy bravery

is coming to get you!

It is now said,

I am doing a complete turnaround.

Yes, I like barreling down

craggy powder snow like a draft,

diving with my life

and soul in the ocean’s

unrelenting waves,

I blush hoping

for those loves

at first sight which make us

lose our minds,

I quiver to the idea

of exploring my soul

at the other end of the world,

feeling my skin burning

under the red sun of the tropics,

I like defying your laws

to find my rhymes,

I like hopping under

August’s stormy sights,

breathing the windy touch

of Irish cliffs.

I live life like an adventurer

in an expedition,

inebriated with those passions

which make you shiver,

you, fearful frail bird,

of those turmoils

which make you fade

and look away.

If you were here tonight, I would murder you,

before you try and kill me.

*****

SophieGregoireSophie Gregoire is a thinker. You may often find her with a new idea or a new concept to explain, holding a notebook and pencil. Also found reading and writing, she is more than anything an independent soul. She enjoys traveling and getting lost in new places, namely in Asia. She says it helps understanding our worlds, its people and the humankind. She loves writing to transform her endless thoughts into some kind of reality, and to keep the little piece of sanity she still has. She savors coffee, encounters, Yoga and meditation, and cats… while her own cat is her greatest muse! You could contact Sophie via Facebook.

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