Wondering about that second cookie.
It exists, should I eat it?
If I eat it, it will still be all it was
before I gobbled it down.
New shape.
Different texture.
Same ingredients, same everything else.
Should I eat the cookie?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Maybe.
But if you only have eyes
for the way you think life
should
be,
then surely you are forgetting
to live.
To truly live.
As you are.
In this moment, this
version of life that you
so desperately wish
to escape.
If sleep could touch my cheek,
I would ask for her slender hand
a thousand times.
If sleep did fall upon me now,
I dare not wake.
No.
I dare…not…
One day,
she sits alone,
and understands it all.
That she’s never been alone.
That all this time
their pain has lived within her,
pain she never asked for,
pain that is not hers to bear.
Clear air is what she knows she is,
not charcoal-grey squalls,
nor black-rimmed mud.
A heavy reality,
a scared, scared world
drowns her in the darkness
of humanity’s shadow.
Until she removes the soot
and clears the air
once again.
Some days,
I take a deep breath
and ask the world to soften.
The world never does soften.
So I fall behind its wind,
and I find my own
peace.
But surely you know
the earth still breathes
the very same breath.
The very same breath.
And surely you know
we earthlings do breathe
the very same breath.
The very same
breath.
What is this softness
that takes my heart dancing
beneath the sad moon?
When aching life pours from the sky,
and my heart cries
to be heard
for once
without question.
Will I listen?
No.
I will hear,
but I will not listen, for fear,
of what?
The heart needs too much.
The heart needs too much
that I,
whoever I am,
cannot ask life to give.
No rose
(not a single one)
ever bloomed in an instant.
Listen to the silence
of the journey.
Let the rose bloom
as she will.
If not this moment,
when?
If not under this orange-grey sky,
beneath these sweeping willows, fair,
where?
How do we taste the rain
and know it is good
if we do not open our mouths?
The warm salty promise
of new found life,
calling us home,
asking to grow our bones
in partnership with the sun.
When? Where? How, life?
Now.
Here.
This way, life.
How beautiful,
to know there is love.
There is love.
There is
love.
