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.

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.

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.

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.

Explore

"I want to explore the world,
with you,"

He says, imploring.

"I want to explore this city,
together."

He smiles.

I look at him
at his crystal,
calculating eyes.

"My love,"

I want to say.

"There's only one thing
I want to explore
."

Instead I laugh
placing my arms
around his shoulders.

We stay like this
as he rocks side to side
breathing in my hair.

He heads into the bedroom
signaling the end of
the conversation.

"You,"
I whisper
as he disappears
around the corner.

Changing tides

I see the water meet the sky’s edge 
I expand, here.
I take in what's changed
what's remained.

I remember the moments 
I came to her shore 
seeking something other 
than what was,
seeking answers. 

Today
I come to her 
with a new request. 

Her waves sing 
and I ask for witness
as I recognize 
my own growth. 

I seek her
expanding memory 
so that when I forget
she’ll remind me
 
that tides change 
and so do I. 

In joy

What 
is joy
compared to
a lasting
ache

In joy
I lack the
preoccupation
the restless attachment
the wondering if
my feelings are matched
or returned at all

In joy
all I have
is the way
you leaned in to kiss me

The memory of standing
in the stairwell
you held my gaze
you held me
to share you’re not
seeing anyone else

All I have
are the hands
that didn’t let go of mine
from that first kiss
in the middle of your kitchen

I’m not sure how to write
in joy

But I can try.

Changing of the guards

I pour a glass of wine
light a candle
my work clothes fall to the floor.
I attempt comfort.

It isn't clear yet,
(to me)
how to write in the calm
in the peace.

(what is this soundlessness)

I eat an entire bowl
of popcorn
I watch the sun recede.
I search for words.

It's 11:00 now.
It was so quiet
I almost missed
the
change.

My hands are clammy
my body overheated.
I am sweating.
Is it muggy in here?

(am I searching for a problem)

Shift change.
The new guards
fresh pairs of eyes
I am angry
I ever let the others past.

I look out the doors
its dark
I still have not
put into words
the feeling
of content
awareness.

(hope feels irrelevant)

I'm going to write
a poem about you.

It won't be a poem
of longing
or molding
or pain.

It will be a piece
about you.
And of what is.

My glass
sits half
empty.
The candle
dances.

I thank the changing
of the guards.

(writing of you
makes you real)