In the corridors of your presence
I find four heavy doors
Behind the first
If I want to make thoughts real
Can form the words
And can synchronize the throat
I do
Behind the second…
Across time and space
A beloved favourite has come back to me
I may still be broken
Some pieces are still glued at the edges
But today everything is in place again
…
I toss through the night
I wake feeling restless and uneasy
So before I make that same short drive
That I do all seven days of the week
I turn the dials a little higher this time
…
Today I was re-reading a message that a friend sent me a day or two ago, when I was particularly struggling. I usually stick to posting my own words here, peppered with the occasional quote from another. But this is something I want to make sure I keep, and will find again, maybe when I really need it.
Glowing with moonlight
From a clear sky
After a wicked storm:
Remember this!
Maya Angelou (I think?) said that every storm runs out of rain.
Hidden in our thoughts
So much love must remain
Unseen and unheard
Silent confessions
These, too, fated to be lost
Alone in the dark
I curl myself tight
In my recovery bed
Finding comfort here
This tiny, soft space
Like a child’s old blanket
Where I seek healing
I’ve been doing my best
through this weakness
this deformity
you know and appreciate this
and you’ve been so good
so generous and patient
with these damaged goods
…
A lifetime of tiny burials
For lost keys to a damaged mind
And an overpowering heart
Smothered and destroyed
Or simply denied their conception
Lacking ceremony
Are resurrecting now
Zombies or ghosts
Under a new moon
Slowly clawing their way up
From soil once fallow
Now richly seeded with my fears
But fertilized by my need
These tiny deaths all
Rise from their graves today
To haunt me or save me
I can’t tell the difference
December 19 2024 – January 2, 2025