The distance we dance with
more so than each other.
Polarity speaks to depth
of home and where I wander
Open arms and warm embrace,
a summer home in winter.
What would each be without space
and a doorway in which we enter?

Collecting scattered notes
I came across a fossil.
It reminded me of you,
and the wind
in your hair at the garden.
The flies were too much
to make love there.
But your smile and your hair.
I wept in my own hands
As the bus hurled me wounded
North through the Carolinas.
The air is the same,
But your hair is different now

Anxiety-
you sit inside
And you lie to me.
Like A thought
that paralyzes
Collides with
A child’s shyness.
My mind becomes
its own highness.
Master to the binded,
tied to the self divided.
I light a candle inside
to try and blind it.
Can I release you
For good?
Can the mind become quiet?
Once in a while
You’re silent, and
I can finally breathe.
I am finally seen.
Woke and walking
Out of your dream.
What will it take?
Can this be the extreme
My anxiety: the Final Scene
Stand up, walk out
Change my belief
That I am more
Than a mental disease
Here I am now
I believe this is me
No longer identified
With anxiety.

I wash
myself
clean
with
forgiveness
each
new
breath  
spring
water
each
thought
soap
and
cloth

As I drift
Shore to shore
In the madness
Of human experience
I see sometimes
The moonscape
And the shells
Beneath the water
My heart sings
To the clouds
Passing by
I, too, am like you
Adrift and
Sometimes still.