fly

when the words 
evade
or i lose myself
in the detailed tangles
of the other's
webs

i often wonder
if it's enough
to witness

if it can satisfy
to say,

“I am here.”

I ask them to feel it all
and often
do not have the
the strings to
weave a foundation
that takes away
the pain

(I want to catch them)

Is this the illusion?

As I listen, speechless,
it may look
like they're falling

Do you see it now?

It's clear, now
when doubt
transfigures
to an almost
ancient knowing

It isn’t a net
that’s needed

but wings

Split

“Stay present,” 

He advises.

Lovingly;
Selflessly

“I don’t want
you split between
two places.”

I want to laugh

You see,
you’ve been with
me, in the
mountains of
West Virginia.

Along the shores
of the
Great Lakes.

I saw you in
the mouth of
Mammoth Cave.

When the fireworks
reflected in
the D.C. waters.

I haven’t left
your hometown
in weeks.

“I’ll do my best,”

I assure him.

I’ve been trying
to untangle my
feet
wrestle them into
one place

For over a year.

Overflow

The universe
must laugh
with twisted
knowing

It should have come
as no surprise -

this was built
on bricks of pain
amongst fleeting moments
of Hope.

Existing always
was a desire -
A sort of
understanding
that I would
be here, grow here,
once I stood
on solid ground.

I held out my hands;

“I’m ready,”

I promised.

She smiles
visualizing a
story

I see it
in greys and blues
and know not
how it ends.

As I watch,
my arms become
so full I
lose my balance.

Faltering, I
look to the shore
and ask for guidance.

“You asked,”

She smiles.

“And so you received.”

spotlight

the scene was 
static

and as you approached
the only light left
was (on) you

“You’re the dancer,”

he introduced, smiling.

“Yes,”

I managed.

I look back
at that moment, frozen.

It melts as
the light transforms 
into a spotlight 

Make music,
I want to say to you.

watch me dance
for you.

D minor

There are only so many 
chords and notes

I haven’t learned them
all and I’m not sure if -

Are these enough?

I know rhythms that
we've created
in innocent
moments

then there are the ones
he, of course,
added to
and spontaneously -

it's fluid and changing
and the lyrics do not
fit or seem to end -

Falter.
I’m no braver today
than yesterday.

I want to add to it
but what I have in front
of me can only take me
so far.

You see,
I wrote you a song.

I play it,
wondering
the ways you would
respond

Would you make it your own?

Would you want it to change?

The song starts in minor
the sound of its harmony
fades
into uncertainty.

What would you say
if I asked you to
finish it,
together?

I know the answer.

That’s not even the
right question.

I’m really asking -

Do you hear it in the
same ways
I do?

So far from the keys,
I don’t have the
ability
to write its end.

It’s there, though,
in chords and
notes that only
you know.

it flows, you see,
for you, alone.








Choice

Does it always 
come to this?

fire and ice

Blue springs or
Rainy canals

the dancing flames
blue reflections
they revel in
their changing
views

Let the answer exist
in the ampersand.

Until then
I’ll find my
joy
in long walks
coffee after dinner

I’ll pick
mulberries
and
listen to his
singing

I’ll run, steady
until the answer
reveals itself.

You see -

Both
forces
have the capacity

to burn.

Boundaries

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

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