TRUTH IS.....

I like the winter, the snow, the dark huddle in, hot chocolate, shovel out, cold feet New England Winter!

I like hats on, coats zipped and buttoned, crisp steaming words coming from frozen lips courting red noses.

Crunchy feet on frozen seaweed atop shifting sand unyielding to temperatures, tell me some things are beyond my control, some within. Some accommodate me without my having to ask or manipulate.

The comings and goings of tides and things getting washed up to shore, with no desire to ponder, look, explore. Just looking is enough at debris too frozen to touch.

December something dream

I felt that intense warmth
As I allowed my body to
be with yours
on that hammock

As I allowed, in the dream,
My body
I gave myself permission to
Ask
if I could lay with you,
Aside of you,
Almost in you

And feel the warmth like I've never felt
before
When I wouldn't ask
Didn't ask

This is deeper

No Pretense
just melt

Dreams like these

they wake me with

my guts on the table

of my story

I treasure that moment

when all the garbage of this reality

melts....

and gives me the real,

the core,

the lava,

the eruption

of life

Of speak

of something to say

this is the story

It's what goes under

when I wake to unconsciousness

It's what keeps me here

in the wrong place

looking for it again

in the wrong place

It lives in my dream

That is the truth

It's the feel of me

of the

sleep to the sound of

My Heart breaking

against the Lie

to crack open The Song

hanging to every particle

until

each whispers away

to sleep again

to nonlife

The Machine

And here I lay

waiting to feel again

Oh this Day

This Moment to get the gift

only to watch it collapse and melt away

and to pretend through today

until we meet again

this Truth and I.

White deep feathered

White like snow

Deep like ice

Flying together direct

Eye's forward

No conversation

Silent bird but wind

waving past hearing

Destination

Home

The Piano

January 25, 2009

The Piano

The wall holds a space where the piano used to be. The piano that belonged to her children’s fathers father. The piano that she lugged around for 12 years up and down stairs, across hardwood floors. Always always the heavy dark piece that weighted upon her like a steel anvil.

She didn’t know it then though. She didn’t know it all these years. She dragged its veneered, scarred and cigarette burnt body around with her like a deal she’d made with the devil.

She looks at the space that it used to occupy seeming like an abandoned place, abandoned by anything really, an old relationship that should have died or did die many years ago…abandoned by a much younger and impatient woman. That woman doesn’t live here. She stayed in the memory of the life that helped mold her yet held her back in too many ways. Now she is older but she is free.

She unstrapped the monkey and took it from her back. She walked away standing up now, breathing, letting go.

Now the place where it was, taking too much precious room in her soul, is free also.

And what fills this space is her own creation...

Her own life from now on