Not the Last

There’s a glass wall between what our heart yearns for, and what it cannot possess.

The beauty of life is that longing – we ache and wish until we lose breath, all the while knowing it won’t get us any closer to what we want.

Is it because it was never within our grasp, and yet just close enough that it makes you pound at the wall?  Perhaps the idea that we can see what we want but may never have it, makes it that much more valuable.

Maybe that’s why the panging aches of the heart can make us feel so deeply, and everything becomes infinite – never, always, forever.

And we bring it upon ourselves, because we don’t know or realize what we have until it’s out of our sight; beyond the horizon. Then we go on a journey to find a different source, and you come back to the very thing you thought you were getting away from. 

But you’re not at the beginning; you have come a long way.

You are in a new place, in a different season, behind that glass wall.

I find myself staring at what I want in my season, in my place, at this time. It’s you.

And it feels like one big circle, but it’s been a winding road down a path that has made me see and feel and do things I never thought I could.

It may seem on the exterior, a temporary relapse; a moment of weakness. But as I delve in deeper, I know that I had uncovered something that was brewing inside, bubbling up now. 

I did not know I could feel like this again, for you.

My last words were truly meant to be my last goodbye; I wanted so badly for you to be happy.

But these past twenty-four hours made me feel more love, pain, and yearning than I have in a very long time.

It’s true, there have been some rough terrain. But do not dismiss these words we shared; feelings we exchanged. Do not toss them aside as some diversion, or some insignificant pit-stop.

The words we shared had pain, anger, forgiveness, longing…wishing…hoping…reminiscing. We allowed ourselves to time-travel – back to that time and space where our bodies, minds and hearts were one. And then broken.

I felt it all over again, with you.

Words have that power though - it can peel inhibitions away, layer by layer, or mend a broken soul.

And I realized that your words reminded me of what once was, and it was beautiful. And still is.

I’m standing now, on the other side of this glass wall and I see you. You are happy and content with where your life is now. I’m staring at the thing I want, and I yearn, and ache, and long – knowing, knowing…that I may never have it.  

We are different people; then and now. Though some things had to happen to wear me down, tip me over the edge and reach out, I had to try. I had to see. I know that now, because of what I felt, and what I am about to say…

I’m so grateful to you for reminding me how much I was loved, and how much I loved. It gave me hope, something I’ve been grasping for these days.

Somehow you manage to push me down, lift me back up and then send me off in just the right way. Well I’m off now, and I see you from this side of the wall. I see you, and I’m waving. But it’s not the last, I know. It’s not the last

A Tall Tale Truthful Story

Upon arriving at the edge of a mountain,
He looked up instead of down
Flying for a swift moment before
He spiraled below with a soft
Breeze kissing past his ears
While breaking past wild
Currents of wind with his
Limbs.
Upon arriving at the end,
He laid himself still for a
Whisper of a beat
Quietly got up and found
He was being escorted by
Trumpeting rumors of his
Awakening. Glimpses of
Him were caught by
Princes and Princesses
Hiding out in unconscious
Places.
He uttered hope like an
Unknown song, and buried
Laws with a force before he
Soared into the
Glowing embers
Scattered about
A throne.

After A While

Swap places with me and maybe
you'll see the smiling stillness
of the city, poked and provoked
by a sudden change in the scent
of the air. It lies camouflaged in
a heap of boredom or
an aching inspiration. Leave it
alone and it will seduce you
with an endless variety of names
and sparkly signs, comforting textures
and vibrant colors, and the promise
that you may not see
another sunset again.

Hubbard Park

A winding concrete floor
stamped into a hill
led to wood carcasses of all
shapes piled on top of each
other in uniform, without disarray.
Without limbs, decapitated and dry,
they spoke an alien language that
could only be decoded by the roots
of a tree not so far away. It wanted
to lend itself to the cadavers nearby
and so it dislocated its cores, it
extracted its legs up where the
summer air touches the dirt, just
enough to create entryways and lumps
just enough to let me trip and fall
over its futile yearnings.
I limped over to the apodal forms
and carved my name into its ridged skin,
and went inside.

Faith

I heard a voice that seeped

through the slits in the blinds

like turquoise mist dripping through

to fill the room.

I thought it was a familiar sound but it

ended when I tried to grasp it with my hands

only to feel the grayness of humidity

inside my pores.

I gave it a name, only to discover that

it was called nothing, and everything,

an echo that reverberated off a

mustard seed among

grains of rice.

I let it fall in the walls

of my skull, where it grew

and never stopped growing.