Monday, July 24, 2017

it is okay to grieve

let me just remind you: it is okay to grieve.
it is okay to not know how one might find the way
to a better solution, or any solution.

it is okay that there are no words;
you’re still looking for them,
they are shadows on the walls of a cave,
fugitive and strange. you know what you want to say
but it is only with your body.
or rather, it is only in your body.
and maybe this is how silence speaks –
with the body, and whispers
about changes that are not chains.

and so embrace this grieving.
there is no point in thinking that
something on the edge of meaning
should not bear so much weight,
should not wield so much power,
should not be beyond words
and the way to name this moment.

you have a decision to make.
it is not an easy decision -
though no one ever promised you any easy decisions –
and the consequences are unknown.

write down the words and measure them.
or carry them in your hands to build a monument.
determine their worth.
take a breath.

Saturday, June 3, 2017

rings and arrows

She told me God said
I must marry her,
or he would end it.
I had already purchased the rings.
I wondered if there was a choice.
Sometimes is it good to be alone.

dream 1
we are running (together) from a crowd
they are chasing us and throwing stones at us
we enter a forest and dodge rocks and trees
I look ahead and see an archer, who
aims at me and lets the arrow loose
it (barely) misses me
I hear its zwip as it flies past my ear
I wake up

dream 2
we are running (together) from a crowd
they are chasing us and throwing stones at us
we enter a forest and dodge rocks and trees
I look ahead and see an archer, who
aims at me and lets the arrow loose
it does not miss
I feel its thud as it enters my ribcage,
pierces my heart
I wake up

The book said the priest shall take a wife in her virginity.
She was no virgin.
That hadn’t mattered before.
I’m not sure it matters now.

Friday, June 2, 2017

the weeping

Today, in the shower,
nursing my migraine,
as the hot water hit my neck,
I began weeping.
Weeping.

Years ago, after 3 accidents in 2 months,
I was getting a message and,

as the masseuse broke up the fascia,
I began weeping,
my body wracked with sobs
as she pressed out pockets of flesh
where I had stored fear.

Now, I sit in the dark
and close my eyes.
Lean my head back
and strain to hear your voice.
It has become so small.

Thursday, June 1, 2017

this is how

we gather in a circle
join hands
i’m going to pray now
i will pray in tongues
the language of heaven
bathe you in confusion
until something bubbles up
and i find the words

i would burn the incense
i would anoint the altar
i would sacrifice the lamb
but you would not understand
why i won’t let go
even now
i recite the words
half-believing them

Saturday, May 6, 2017

cento for lisa 2017

the way to fall in love with you
is to walk your muddied fields, your lanes, leaning into the light.

mostly, my tongue leans to the good side,
casting out a mile long line of filament words, thin and flimsy.

did you hesitate? i wish it was enough;
a simple question reaching out its tips
to call them back
home. we soak them in, sustained.
you think you know the preparations you make.

i’ve missed you so much
lapping at the edges
and I can't stand here all day waiting
at the thought of missing you.

still, i see clearly what today will do for yesterday,
where the purpose that has been written,
the divine, shines through this final dwelling.
we sit in stillness.
walk in measured steps
searching, desperate amongst the garden stones.
a boulder of a day, they say.
a walk through the thickest fog.

in the beginning it was always there;
it chased me down in my dreams:
whose face had been freshly kissed enough
to measure? to fill? and then?
spill over. and then? repeat.

when all the serious questions get answered,
we are finally here in a room with no lies.
i need to tell you something
whispers when i have trouble remembering the dream you dream.
sometimes the words return.

the sound of your laugh
is enough. i lean into you
sometimes. i think i've forgiven you. sometimes
we buy back time by sacrificing
one another.