Holding hands in the dark, the wash of moonlight spilling onto the sheets. A kiss on my cheek and a hug that lingers long enough to feel the solid warmth of skin and bone. The breath of a sunset sky, and the heat of thunder and lightning pouring cleansing waters from above. A singular burgundy
We sit together like this every week, him and I, and talk about it all. It has been almost eight years now since life fell apart for him, a slow motion and steady devastation. Hour by hour, we seek to understand, together, always together, the needle that went in his arm, the fall from grace,
There is a 6:15 am sunrise trying to climb above dark green mountains. The pale light starts to wake a sleepy sky, and creates glowing patches across my morning coffee. I want to trust in whatever makes the sun rise today and every day. I want to believe in the moon that knows to hang
She told me once that her depression was a howl with no end. And in her words, I could see the aching scream, moving like restless wind, rustling the leaves, leaving the night world uneasy and full of a dark distrust. Why wasn’t it okay, she wanted to know, to have no clue what she wanted
In today’s installment of what’s beautiful, I only first found what was broken, until I caught a fleeting glimpse of what laid beneath. My son’s hair a rat’s nest, but shining through were those mischievous chocolate eyes. My daughter sitting on the car seat, a tired and irritable mess of not wanting to go to camp,
Today was a day of living slow yet thinking fast, all of which is to say that life unfolded only in my head with little to no direct contact, noticing, or taking it in. I didn’t see the pink bougainvilleas with their glorious and bright petals, singing as they drifted to the ground, pulling me
Sometimes when the loudness around us has settled into a quiet lull, let’s ask each other all the questions that pulse deep within. Like what stories visit you in your dreams, and what do you fear in the 4 am hour, when you are alone and still and the light of the moon falls across
Somewhere between dreaming big and living in small, ordinary moments, I am lost without a compass. There are fleeting thoughts of huts suspended over water in Bora Bora and jeweled palaces in Jaipur and a horizon of tulips in Amsterdam. There are visions of grand stages and published poems and changing lives in profound and
The landscape of my body holds stories that will never be told, perhaps even words that I have never known– ancient dictionaries hidden in the stars of my genes, shaping, deleting, evolving as I move through this life. My heart hold the raucous crashes of Indian rickshaws, and the first caw caw caw of birds
Monday morning at 7:03 am. A layer of gray is settling across the heavy closed sky and threatening Monday rain. The water creeps into my cold bones that yearn only for the warmth of sun. A pause now to touch paper, hold this pen, see what grows from the heart. Before long, night will arrive,
Anyways, breathe. Breathe. Pausing here, as I write the words, to feel the oxygen filling me as if for the first time. Noticing. This is life. The day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute. The waves of exasperation and irritation, and yes, shame and guilt and uncertainty too, dancing amongst the touches of
Creeping through the hallways of my dreams What is true? What is the mind, spinning half awake half asleep half truths? Even in the walking, the peering into dark doorways of possibilities and never chosen paths, the feeling inside is real and alive. How the body remembers this deep desire to discover a room that