He respects the line
the invisible barrier
that cuts and swerves
between
through
what is and what
could be
(The other assures trust)
But my goodness -
There are moments
the craving is insatiable
Let that line
dissolve
Shatter it in
whispered gasps
Just for a night
He is too good
that makes
testing the line
all the more
tempting
And what are boundaries
but lines meant to
guard
the guarded
You know that
all too well
Author: restlesscrescent
I write when I feel. I write to release and to share. This is my poetry. Most hours I spend on others, listening while I work as a therapist. This is a space for me. I hope you enjoy the pieces of self I choose to share with you.
problems
have i told you the realization i've come to as the fireworks blazed and time told us to start again i've determined that most (all) of the problems i encounter are of my own making they belong to me and in this conclusion behind the regret and the defensiveness lives the answer that all along i've had the power and potential to heal.
Delay
There's a sort of pause - a break. Writing about how good how easy it is, being with you. There’s parts of me that never learned to describe all the ways of your kindness Your patience What words can express peace and the glow in my chest When I look at you as you sleep next to me one arm draped over my body You fall asleep holding me. And the delay in writing of the internal experience of being with you maybe it'll be temporary I know words for pain. It’s the good feelings I’m still learning.
luggage
behind every shining paper and mention lives the truth of the esteemed the person lives in the world of stories ideas regrets and wishes day after day and into the night adventures failures dreams and terrors do you think these meet her ears and fall to the floor burrow beneath the skin she is not infallible. "Go live - I'll keep these stories safe." The esteem exists in the trust between people in vulnerability. Therapists listen they try their best to live fully knowing truths of life so many attempt to keep locked away unpacked in luggage
View
on your back porch
you do not see mountains
or ocean waves
the town of Falerna
or the promenade to the sea;
there's no distance
or depth
in this view.
I watch you
sitting -
looking out at
the garden you built
on the land that's your own.
Is it the sustenance,
the stability
you see?
Is it the
family
the existence -
life
are you seeing your reflection?
Answers were never
in your words.
I find them
in that small space
within
the tomato stalks
and sunflowers
He looks out
at the plot of land
the one that
offered the grandest of gifts.
I do not tell him in words;
that's not our shared language.
he gave us life
and in return
i lived.
she was there
glowing looking at me and through holding the son; the repair: blue and white hair the color of - there aren't words she was she and me and all in; holding him i crossed over the waning crescent, held and stroked. nothing was asked of me I was present - I was: and she loved and that was all that was. "Does she have a name?" no name, yet. she wasn't there for introductions she was there to show love to offer to nurture and I to receive.
four tens
give and take and more give than take whiskey regrets and bathroom falls stabilizing (humbling) promises of love the shooting star across the Michigan Milky Way off roading to the last campsite lone walks with the Red Woods towards the vineyards of Napa found nerve in the mountains of Whistler And jealousy turned envy with the sound of arpeggios new friendship built on the chords of his guitar Languages opa and oma nanna and nanno red lights and waterboat champagne no feelings preceded or warned for the great pause except for maybe the desire for rest turned to months of homemade food movie nights furry companions turned family boredom fear. Stillness in chaos. Nanno gardens at 93 the world marches and cries; The world moves. Nature roars. I visit with backpacks and boots I camp at its waters Skinny dipping in the great lakes Lane Cove is where peace dances with the dragonflies; He holds me when I'm scared. Masks are worn for more reasons than hiding, now more parts to protect the nation votes one side wins the other (why is there the other) braces. four tens turn to three sevens I'm unsure which mask I'll bring with me What I will take is my love of what came before. I'll take the life i've created and the life i've been given. I'll take the joy and I'll (try) to give even more.
29
I shower off the day reach for the lavender lotion I take vitamins floss I choose the green silk pajamas I open myself to 29
loves
and in the end
or the beginning
which ever end
you start to
untangle or
string together
it's in loving them
both
that will
restore
or
renew
which ever
frame you
choose
it’ll be the
same picture
It’s not one
or the other
I keep trying to
picture either
course
and they begin
with loose ends
and finish
in tight knots
I’d rather hold
both
if they let me.
doubt
I know she came before that summer and the beach the balcony plants the orange tree I understand you said you’ve moved on I’m wondering if moving on for you means holding her space while I hold out my heart wondering if you’ll take it while giving your own to her.
