A maiden of winter
Born in dead weather
Looking at heaven in a sea of the sun.
Trading violent winds for violent heat,
Reflecting
In these violet hours of golden glows
And suddenly
Everything’s new.


Goodbye
stillness,
coldness,
soulless                   blue.

I don’t know much about god(s),
But I do know a lot about water.
And
If there is
A god
She was sitting right there in that bucket
Carried by Bly, carried with grace
And on the beads of her work
That streamed
down
her
face
Right to her smile.

Her smile.

So seemingly undeserved in the context
Of the situation,
But she taught me that.
And hope
And love
And to be patient.
Because this is one life
And they’ll “get theirs”
In the next one
But try to have faith
And give hard in this one
Because in the middle of all of it
You can’t control any of it
Except who you choose to be,
Regardless of what you’re working with.

So, while

I don’t know much about god(s),
I’d like to believe I do know plenty about me;
And I’m choosing to sit,
         Forever, underneath a magnolia tree.

Sometimes it’s just nice, to not be nice

To not be inviting

To not be warm

Relief:                                                        ­                  that’s love.

Not having to perform,
Just be in my form

To not do anything about anything
When there is something in doing nothing
With people who despite everything, think
                                                                ­               I’m everything.

I can’t tell anymore.

Being outside                                                          ­                 Being indoors

   ***** laundry overtakes my drawers.two days dirt saturates my
  pores.texts and calls being ignored.avoidance of all commitment.
          
I’m scaring myself.
                                                              No­ one around to help, to witness.
            What to say of                                     i s o l a t i o n  
                                                             ­   If it gives me a different sickness?

I think it was Dickenson who said:

                                                  “My river runs to thee".
Or was it me?

Because if             I am                     full circle
                                you,                    my­ every degree.

After I left, on my first night
Prompted my journal, describe your now past life
Perhaps, things like:
The telephone boxes,
                     The theatre, the foxes,
                                            Ben, Battersea or the eye.
At worst, at best, simple a request
But against my behest,
I Immediately flustered
As only memory my mind mustered:
                  That feeling felt when I caught your eye
              
              And I just wasn’t ready to ask myself why
                 
I wasn’t able to say         
                                                                ­       goodbye.

I guess what often said is true,
Like what last heard to me from you:
                     You run from things you cannot deny.

I passed by a wedding,
Yesterday.                 Two lovers
                  Embraced
Smiles bright
On their face
Even though                  sun hot
And breeze hard to find
Joyful their hearts
So didn't they mind
For I?        Old sadness came by
For what they had
I surely                       would not
Regardless of the gratitude
For what I have got
The vision before me
As I walked up each step
Nothing could stop me:
Oh how I wept.