start. stop. stuttering.
my heart crashes into the pit of my stomach
I might forget for 5 minutes, or an hour, and then it all rushes back.
in circular thought I spin
in dreams we claw through mud as thick as limbo
as thick of the loss of hope
trapped inside my head
the words struggle to be heard
understood without meaning
oh the wasted years
the wasted tears
the forever dreams and joy…
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after the storm is this, the lingering headache and colors
I run through the thundering waters
the sky’s tears, the sky’s laughter
the steady beat tapping out
too soon subsiding in exhaustion.
wait, wait! In every tiny reflection, in every color
we wait, wait with every breath held back
my feverish pen halts, my feverish thoughts dim
hold hands up to the storm
fingers intertwined, in sudden silence.
I saw the sky on fire through my kitchen window tonight, and grabbed my camera. The wind had died to nothing, the world was silent, and the clouds were running away. What beauty!
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in knots
the strings are slipping round
we passed by the dreaming trees
and the childhood things.
stepping down from palaces
in daylight the world is harsher
the words we say are the way it is
we’re in denial without basic sentences.
we waited by the sideline seats
ghosts of the irony
waited there, haunting me
we’re in silent motion here.
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I am still here.
In silence with the water forming lakes around my boots,
with the golden red leaves forming islands around my feet.
I am…in a few places at once.
With tall buildings, cold people, fascinating streets
(that dream is farther away now, diminishing every week).
In warm sunshine where we bowed our heads
always, always among the cool stone and cypress trees
(I will never leave)
Among these people, this place, my home, the familiar roads
at first, breathless, dormant, unmoving
and now,
and now…
this is where I should be.
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It seems like there is almost a reaching toward
a not quite there feeling…
we’re staring off into the distance, hoping for an answer.
really, I was floating in this dream
a soft, sunny place that reflected my heart
and we drifted so far out that I lost my balance
and you lost your focus
A conversation between them is always starting with:
“Hello, you are my friend, I have always wanted to meet you.”
“I know, this is why we are here. To meet.”
“We can’t go very far if you always know what I think.”
“It doesn’t matter, knowing what you think just makes it better.
“Please, please sit down, you’re making me dizzy.”
(I leave in the morning for work-related travel. Maybe I will see new and inspiring things to bring back to all of you.)
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I wait in silence as they whisper
a thousand shouting voices drowning out
the sounds of every love they have ever known
I wait in heartbeats as they plunder
the only things of worth they have ever owned
And in my silence is acceptance
of the fiery ways that steer us on
In my dreams I see you standing
silent, true, tall and strong
There is no distance I can travel
that takes me further away from you
The words we wrote, the moments stilled
the tears I never cried
There is so much beauty in all of this
and yet we never tried
Can we keep a million secrets
of the times we never shared?
How can we sleep in peace forever
knowing that this is all we had?
This is for the never was,
and all it could have been
This is for the future children
and the moments born within
This is for every second
I never knew was real
This is for all the times I never told you
how it is I truly feel
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for in your eyes a thousand stars stared down at me
the world spun around the clouds in a perfect sky
with a perfect sea and you all around me
time slipped through, down and never existed
time waited, stopped, and counted
the breaths we took, the tears and smiles
the silent prayers, the laughter over coffee
the ocean, the paths, the stones
watched our meandering ways
with angels over our shoulders
every lost moment before
every lost moment since
tallied up in letters and thought
in the dreams of could have been
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This is not what I wanted
(words against the walls of my heart, burrowed under my skin)
I am trying and failing and trying…
I am strong until I come up against you
and I fail.
I fail to be silent in the right places
I fail to speak the right words.
I cannot reach the space where we are speaking the same language and can spend one day without this battle turning into a war. There is no space for both of our words, and the pain we hold onto, and the
silence is better than anything.
My tears are all dried, my eyes heavy and the weight on my shoulders has added to itself, without even trying. I speak in whispers so that the still moments are not broken and that maybe tonight we will sleep, even though we know that there are too many things left in the barricades between our minds and our hearts.
Mostly, I do not understand.
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Stars, you are unfortunate, I pity you,
Beautiful as you are, shining in your glory,
Who guide seafaring men through stress and peril
And have no recompense from gods or mortals,
Love you do not, nor do you know what love is.
Hours that are aeons urgently conducting
Your figures in a dance through the vast heaven,
What journey have you ended in this moment,
Since lingering in the arms of my beloved
I lost all memory of you and midnight.
-Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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I thought that those whispered words were enough,
that we could always eat blueberries at sunset
and our stories would sustain us.
you found me and lost me in moments
in between secrets and the alarm clock in the morning
maybe it was just not the right definition of perfect.
Today I smiled because of the cold air and because there is no reason not to smile. The snow still falls and everything still happens just like it should. I am still in love with the details of life and the grand plans of the universe and the way that a silk dress moves. I am this beautiful creation of power and movement and smallness and infinite everything (and so are all of you). My hands will hold children someday, my eyes will let down tears in the most heartbreaking way when I hear the right kind of music, my legs will carry me to distant lands, my mind will learn and teach, and my heart…oh, my heart will love and love and love (just like it always has).
I will and I am and there is something to be said for the silent moments at 3 am, something to be dreamt in the ways that right now holds meaning even if the stories are still being written, bound in books with glossy gold letters and the paper smell that good books are required by law to retain.
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He wrote her a love letter
exactly three and one half pages long
handwriting slanted sideways, the pen rarely picked up
in the furious rush.
She decided that a certain percentage of these
expressions of undying love
are inherently selfish.
Words are said to relieve the burden
of these things rattling around in the head.
Every combination of terribly beautiful things
has been stated, analyzed, and…
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she said “it is so easy for you”
and I just shook my head but didn’t argue.
I’m the storyteller through poems
but can’t say the words out loud
I’m the dream-maker through glances
but can’t make a sound.
I am tracing outlines faster and faster
the pieces of conversations and glances
throw me to the ground.
there is the distant crashing sound
of the beginning of the most beguiling music
the curves of my hands and arms in the air
and now you know I will look over my shoulder
in the way we do when it is time to begin.
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I can’t watch this happen again, when our feet have only just touched the clouds. Each book I write is a novel about the might never be, and one day in the future I wrote a book about every moment we had together. It was called “The Life That Always Was” and there was laughter on every third page. The chapters all started with major milestones in life, such as the time we met, the moments in the kitchen and taking walks on autumn afternoons, and the time that you stood beside me as we watched the world end around us (in a good way).
Each song that we danced to had a story, and some of the stories were painful, some joyful. All were worth telling, as the stories of families are always worth telling…even if only to ourselves.
So as the light of the stars came from the past, and we dreamed of the future…
I whispered “please come home” and there you were.
Who knew it was so simple?
(Currently listening to this song.)
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She held her breath far longer than she meant to. There was order and a certain sense of peace, but the ground was shaky under her feet. Reaching out did no good…the branches tore at her dress and snagged her hair. In this case, a blue sky was no comfort, sunlight was harsh and glaring. The only thing to make it right was the cool evening wind, the kind to be lost in.
She learned to translate movement and expression into thought, broke through the noise of words…but lost the frantic tumble of syllables and sound that slide down ravines and tumble into your waiting hands.
Some words stay thick and others fall in rapid movements. There are ways to keep up. Words can hold our hands, walk right into our souls and set up shop.
Glances catch details, the little spoken or understood moments. Hems of long dresses touch a polished marble floor, stirring dust motes in the afternoon sun. A hand grips a telephone pole and twists around to gain balance, tightening. A plate shatters but only one piece does a graceful double-back flip. Only one snail ever crossed that path in that place, he is a snail celebrity in the snail world.
Her words are as powerful as the silence could be, if it was patient and waited for Sunday afternoons with tea and books by the fire. She has waited so long for those afternoons.
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I have discovered that my heart holds too much love, my mind holds too many memories, and my feet have not traveled enough roads. Too many of my secrets are no longer mine. There have been years of letting life happen, and moments of joy in between.
There are a few things I know to be true: my bare feet on marble and carpet, the scent of roses and jasmine, old stones and white-washed walls, the smiles of long-lost new friends, the pen in my hand, a child in my arms, serving tea in glass cups, sunlight, hands through hair, soft words of prayer, a purple sky with white clouds, honesty with you, and my sometimes healed, sometimes broken heart. I have invisible bruises and visible scars, and yet my words have become patience, detachment, and balance.
I always thought that the most peaceful moment would be to dance barefoot on deep green grass in a long summer dress. I could look up to the sky in any moment of doubt, and the universe would anchor me. There are too many stars out there, and too much beauty here, for God not to exist.
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When we whispered our secrets to the quiet spaces under the trees, beyond the hills that we slept under for one hundred years…
the silence echoed.
When we whispered our secrets, they were coated with the fog and rain, made heavy with the weight of water and time. Our secrets became the leaves, a million colors and fallen.
Now our secrets are whispered between us, the trees only listen, and we are laughing.
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(i never said i wouldn’t write, only that i might not
but this requires hidden words
to record the moments, and i am not the type that forgets.)
the most perfect times
are when the rain is pouring down in the middle of the night
and we are smiling
or the sunlight falling in on our faces
in the middle of an absolutely beautiful day
I looked up at the light gray
as the sky came falling down on me
in delicious little pieces
to be able to laugh and laugh
and there comes my sideways smile
a storefront with small windows:
crammed with a million little joys
hats and umbrellas and wooden boxes
and an old book with the corners bent
there will be bright flashes of color
taking over the green of trees
and the smell of the sea
there are endless roads.
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I dreamed we were all standing on the shore
staring across the bay
and our feet felt the rocks beneath our shoes.
There were clouds above and below
in between our silent stares.
We all gathered in an empty stone house
elbows touching, feet shuffling
and our spirits were lifted by a Hand.
I dreamed that your eyes stabbed into mine
made me realize that in some ways
it is better that I am gone.
I dreamed that my suitcases
were being packed one last time
(for the fourth time)
and I know I haven’t left yet.
I dreamed that you were so happy
dressed in white.
and so confused.
I dreamed that we were in a forest,
and you came to me smiling
there were never words said
and I am left wondering.
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the waves of the salty blue-green sea lifted me
in my turmoil and tears
you joined me and I can’t forget that.
I needed laughter
there was too much heartache
you whispered
and there was peace in the stars.
There is too much to say.
I wish I had more to say.
You always read these words better than anyone else.
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There are so many faces
In each room, I turn and my heart fills
with a million histories
(I remember it all)
There are two ways that I see:
I see your smile
and I feel your soul
there is that.
I felt myself laughing and I could not restrain myself from jumping up and down. In the darkness I saw at least 25 faces that I love, 25 souls that I could not believe I missed so much.
Joy, joy!
They are, dears, they are. They are laughing and crying and I can’t explain why my lips quiver and my heart aches and it is all because I am surrounded by such beautiful everyones.
(I make the English language mine.)
Write a few moments of every day on clean paper, or on the back of your hand. Make notes in the margins, and scratch out anything that makes you sad. Sadness has its place but you all have my heart.
I love you, I love you.
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