it was never the beginnings which frightened me
nor the ends (they were almost a breath of fresh air)

it was the middle
the chaos and the panic
the uncertainty and the fear

the idea that this could be forever, or no longer, or sometime, or tomorrow

the middle with the lull
the dull, the calm
the quiet, the serene

i am waiting for the other shoe to drop

a pebble in the ocean, you barely hear it
but it falls all the same

the middle with the muddy puddles
the light rain
the thunderstorm
waiting

the beginnings- the light
the end- the dark
the in-between - muggy, opaque,

anything could happen.

i bought a bird in a cage
with the intention to set it free
i hung the cage on the tree
and opened the door wide

the bird looked at me
and did not move
i sat there, it sat there
we sat there

for hours

the wind came in and out
bugs went in and out
the cage swung
the bird waited

it did not move

i coaxed it out
with promises of berries and leaves

it left the cage
and sat on the floor
still
still it did not move
it sat on the floor

and waited
i waited
it waited
we waited

the crows gathered
circling the little bird
waiting for me to leave
so they could seize the opportunity

but i waited
it waited
they waited
we waited

the bird hopped
it hid in bushes
it climbed on a branch
it looked at me
still
still it did not fly

it began to get dark
the crows got closer
it was time for dinner
for me
for it
for them

the bird looked at me
coaxed me with fear and love
to let it back in the cage

i let it go back
i closed the door

it was safe
it was still
it was home

he had never learnt how to fly

Home is not welcoming.
Home does not want me here;
It allows me to live under its roof but
It will not let me forget.

Home is shame;
It is fear and guilt and regret.
It is the sound of
“You could do better”
And
“You are not enough”

Home stays still
It tells you to stay with it
In a way that your body won’t allow
You are squirming in place
About to burst, staying still.

Home has changed
It wasn’t always like this
It has silenced;
Poisoned our roots
And cut our wings.

Home is Home.
Your place of return.
It is safe under here
Protecting you from
The Outside World.

i'm tracing my history and i realize that it all adds up

always being told that i'm crazy but
they never had all the pieces to the puzzle and
i didn't know that i did either but
i found some lying in the back room and
i put it together so that the puzzle was complete and
it all makes sense

i'm tracing my history and i realize that it all adds up

Black Lilacs
blooming -

a blossoming
of grief -

dark fallen pollen
on the breeze -

I can see it falling
all around me -

there on the wall
for us to see -

April will be
the cruelest of them all.