Jan 7 2012

ghosts

::

sometimes

the things in life

we think

we should be

most afraid of

are not at all

the things

we need

to be

afraid of.

::


Jan 5 2012

bits and pieces

I decided, the other day, that 2012 will be the year of discarding.

Letting go, relinquishing, dropping, hurling, setting free, releasing.

Words and tchotchkes, things and thoughts, pounds and insecurities. Worries and doubts, stuff and clutter, possibilities and promises. There is so much that I don’t need.

I want to sit here in this room surrounded by nothing, I want the quiet to seep into my skin, I want to be enveloped in space.

I need more room. Elbow room, breathing room, leg room, room to grow, a room with a view, living room, my own room.

My life is cluttered with things I don’t need, things I must have, things that replace other things. I want less, more or less. I want fewer things and more words. Less stuff and more substance. I want to hold nothing in my hand and watch it turn into something.

I want to give away everything I have and expect nothing in return. I want to build a tower of hope and climb all the way to the top. I want to let my hair down and run laughing through the forest. I want to live off the land and inhale the morning. I want to sing the sun to bed at night and whisper rhymes to the stars. I want to wrap my arms around the ocean.

I want nothing. All of it.

I want to find an empty place to curl into, a bowl, a pail, a vessel, something to float away in. I want to feel the air rushing at my face as I soar through clouds of forgiveness. I want to lie on my back in a meadow alone and let butterflies land on my nose.

I want to be still.

I want to be.

Still.

 

 


Jan 3 2012

and yet, she danced

there was a piper to pay
but no debt was ever collected.

she sang her song with no melody
to birds with no freedom.

her skirts were always
too long too loud too tight,

her heels were always
too low to be sexy or
too high to be graceful,

and there was always
a hole in her stockings.

love was never
the partner she followed,

but it was always there
in the steps
that she took.

.

.

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