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…

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.

(this is in the background…)

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!

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.

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.

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.)

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

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

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.

-Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

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.