There are so many ways to be alive
and I want them all
Twisted as they are
My sculptured moments shape everything and nothing all at once
Whatever I’ve built
Whatever I’ve known
Can be gone with the wind the moment I open my fingertips
The path I’ve been walking
The doors I have chosen
I can walk another,
choose another
I have chosen
Something entirely my own, entirely unknown
Something that reminds me where my happiness lives
For a while I thought I wouldn’t feel her anymore
I have been run tired,
but I’m resting
I have been hurt,
but I’m healing
I am giving my spirit time to stand again
She desired something so fiercely
She held it, she throttled herself into it
and now its over
though now its begun
so now what’s left?
Absolutely everything
Everything she’s never touched
Everything she never dreamed of becoming
(not since being elbows height anyway)
Everything that’s yet to come, to create, to enjoy
is still there
Its been lovely to persevere
We’ve been doing it a long time
But that mode is a riverbed now
Constant, carrying, full of tears and currents
It is not enough to simply persevere anymore
We are so beyond
For the first time in years I feel like exploding
I have missed it so
No one has taken it from me
No one can
I hid it from myself,
but now I can see
Now, I can see as if it was all I was ever meant to do
Wake up and see,
look inward and see,
look around me and see
And for the first time in my life
I can hold it all at once
I have a table big enough for every guest
I have a love in my heart, a lump in my throat
for each and every piece
And just like that the wind blows,
taking with her all the weight
I carried boulders up until now
Boulders in my pockets,
and on my shoulders, in my sleeves
To keep from blowing away
But now I can see
and I would they just blow away like paper
Pages, blank canvases
Scribbled raw and wiped anew
They fill the sky above me,
touching down and lifting off
A sky suddenly glowing pearly white with paper and light
Clouds abated, giddily running
I hear my own voice
She doesn’t speak from my feet on the ground
She doesn’t care much for the past
Nor the papers, nor the clouds,
nor the riverbed
and certainly not the boulders
I can feel her clearly, running amidst the light
I can hear her within me
Teaching me, again
What I used to think was solid,
made of anchors and bricks,
is not
“And isn’t that wonderful news?,” she says
What I used to think was Me,
was not
It never was
Now, I can see
What’s Me in me doesn’t exist where I put it
But in the sky, in the light,
and in the wind
