anniversary of your exit.

i had forgotten if it was today or tomorrow.
the memory of it is sharp but, the details have grown distracted.
there is a funny way that you sit beside me now.
in moments of quiet.
in a song that tears me open.
answer me. answer me.
and I am a cat curled upon your chest, listening to the beat of your heart.
I am encircled in your arms and you sing.

I don't recognize the words, but I have not yet learned a language.
I am all syllables and melody. I know this is my song you sing.
and I know you sing it for me.

I know this music the same way I know how to breathe.
instinctively.
I know you the same way I know how to laugh.
with my whole heart.

it is the words and the weight that got in the way.
it is the world that divided us.

this is the thin time.
the days of wind that bring you close. I feel you now,
standing
over my shoulder.
the way I wished you had.
the way my belly softens now to know that you are here.
the way my tears rush in missing you and what might've been.

It is the words and the weight of the world that got in the way.
it is the wounds that divided us.

I wonder almost all the time
what you know about me.
what you are.
and where.
if there is a place where we meet now
or again
or ever.

I'm sad to consider this might be the end.

ellipses

there is always an unfinished sentence,
an ellipses,
in my throat.
I don't know how to walk by strangers that share your gestures without a pause,
interruption,
and.
...
so much has happened since you left.
and, thank you, by the way,
and,
finally,
I miss you.
In those blank moments of arrested time, I wonder
what became of your smile,
your laugh,
the way you liked tennis and the beach and travel and beautiful women and dogs and cats, hot tea with sugar cubes, pistachios, quiet, and a good fight for justice.
I don't think of the broken glass or shaking walls, the roaring temper that used to frighten me so deeply that my marrow would swell. or that the walls would contract. or that I would never see the world as safe. ever.
I don't think of the little poisons that still live in my blood that make me doubt myself, misread, misjudge, mistrust, and go blindly into enemy camps bearing flowers.
when you left. when you returned. when I grieved in your presence...
when I think of you now, as spirit, dust, and imprint, I spin. there is no you to beat my fists against. no you to hold responsible for the demons that I wrestle. no you to find redemption with. no you to possibly ever love me. ever.
what I carry now is mine. mine. mine to confront, find peace with, find purpose with.
a continued story that might bear your name in the title but is carried on, chapter by chapter, without you.

azartist

in grandfather's arms.
held in love,
I spoke.
trembling with yearning,
wrestling with the weight of a weightless fall through space.
seeing in the dark
by feeling the touch of your eyes listening,
your ears speaking,
your hearts
knowing.

to be alive.
to recognize something in that Icarus moment. something that lives in me.
thank you for that reminder, Andi.
thank you for that reach across the divide, Adam.
thank you for showing me the exquisite, Lisa.
thank you
for the courage
to shine with tears,
without knowing words,
with the gentle catch
of a tumble
through
the
floorboards.


something that lives in me called me through the door way.
something alive in me, shuts it.
pulls into its center everything necessary and leaves the rest outside.

something in that brilliant moment
awakened me.
to live as
art.
to burn in the yearning.
to break into my own house and recover my voice
to sing.

life goals.

help animals. in small ways, in everyday ways, in the big ways.
create art. good art. art that is human, animal. art that connects, humanizes, heals, unites, transcends.
relationship. with good people. family, friends, animals, nature.
heal. myself, support others.
thrive. eat well, rest, play, explore, remain curious, learn, heal, grow, laugh, love, dance, create, write, act.
beauty. live it, create it, be it. recognize it, celebrate it, nurture it. grow it.

doubt

I did not know that I would have so much to surrender.
I thought embarking on a new journey would be mostly about the gains.
It is sacrifice.
a mandatory pause.
will I be okay?
I won't be able to join my tribe; the things that nourish me. laughter. touch. wisdom. laughter.  community. depth. laughter. healing. feeling my place in the scheme of things.
ok. ok.
i'm in a shadow right now. On the eve of round 2 of many rounds: learning, reading, writing, synthesizing, staying up late, missing exercise, missing meals, missing movies and books, and friends.
can I do it?
yes, and also.
should I?
that's the worst question because it is saturated with ambivalence. should I, shouldn't I? I could dance between worlds and never put my foot down once. the eternal suspension is full of anxiety, urgency, panic, and exhaustion.

it is hard because I never had a solid answer to begin with: why are you going to grad school?
you have a successful, thriving private practice, a place in the professional world. you are creating art: doing theatre, dance. what are you hoping for? what are your goals? what are you going to do with the degree?
and, all I have to go on is my intuition.
a knowing.
an answering to the tug that says, "go this way. and, go now."

and I trusted it.
because I almost did go to grad school back in the day. Accepted to Naropa's Movement Therapy program. and I heard the voice that said, "mmm, no. not now. defer...then, no. not this way."

was that voice wrong?
who knows. probably not.
who knows who amongst my voices is ever speaking.
maybe the reckless one that wants to make me sacrifice everything, to pull me into deeper isolation and away from the present offerings. maybe the wise one that knows that none of that is lost; it continues but may pause. there are things that used to be my essence that are not being fed: teaching, dancing, creating, living as an artist. sharing my wisdom with groups, discovering my wisdom and healing by sharing my creative visions with others.

my private practice and even assisting has been, in some ways, a hiding place. I was one amongst many talents. nothing special. just equal. just me.
that's good, too.
but, there are things we come into this world to birth and bring forth.
there is something that seems to be alchemizing in this blind walk: art, teaching, healing, something more deeply personal that includes me and my story, something about justice and social change, a way to impact the world in a larger way. for animals, for humans, for the planet. I don't know. these are all hunches, that's all.

but it's the eve of my 2nd class. The first class almost killed me. it can't be good to feel the surge of cortisol on a regular basis....what am I doing?
but I also am happy. I'm using my mind. my intellect. my heart.
towards something good.

but, I always ask...
can't I just start teaching and creating art again?
Do I have to go to graduate school and give up so much in order to.. .what?

living in the mystery.


Photo by Aaron Mello on Unsplash

post wishes

I wish I could go back
to those moments when the sun was coming through the trees
and it was just another day,
ordinary.
to that time, after time,
when I shrank instead of expanded because
everything was spinning
and the outside shimmered like an old film reel
and my head
was filled with seawater.

to the friends I kept this far away
because I was so far out of reach
and I didn't want them
to know.

I wish I could gather all the mornings
I ran from, thick with dread,
and spread them out like a table cloth on the bright earth
and kiss them sweetly
and say, 'welcome'.

I wish that my blood hadn't shuddered
and wobbled my spine
the way it did in the simple things.
I wish I had known ordinary moments the way that
others take for granted a ride to the mall.
I wish I could've danced.