Maybe
I don't sleep as well
As I used to
Because everytime
I open my eyes
You aren't lying
Next to me

i slip into
the embrace
of the sea,
this morning
and it,
welcomes me.

the salt,
carresses my skin
and the cool water,
captures my mind

i swim out,
past the breakline
and into the green

who knows,
what swims beneath....
when i dive
i see nothing,
but seaweed
yet there is,
a whole world
down there...
watching,

as i stroke,
my way back and forth across the cove...

the worries of the landlocked cease,
and i am...
at one...
with the rythm...
of my body,
as the water,
slides,
past each and every,
skincell,

it is like...
weaving liquid silk,
into the weft,
of my tattered soul ...
and in doing so,
renewing vigour
and purpose.

the sun rises,
and the surfers come...
at last i am done....
and leave the water,
slipping quietly
back on to the sand...

and back into the less fluid
being of me....
patched....and embroidered
ready .....for another day

she's afraid of reoccurring nightmares
afraid of choosing a single instrument to play, she can't stay with one
beautiful sound-producing musical wonderwall,
of committing herself to one,
and I was wondering if she was really talking about instruments
or talking about people,
talking about me--
am I a violin or a piano?
it doesn't matter because she says she wouldn't stay with any of them
anyway.
she's afraid of going downstairs to brush her teeth at night in the dark
and instead of picking up a tooth brush
she's afraid of picking up a razor in its place,
and god i tell her
all about my nightmares
how I run and outrun myself
or try to,
I reveal that I fear and love being
alive, I expose myself and my personal
horrors,
and I tell her, tell her it all, and for the first time
she looks at me with eyes that aren't empty,
eyes that are sorrowful as they are
compassionate and she tells me
"it's okay".

I stood within the circle of the Sun
and beheld you there solid as stone, and
fragile as summer snow drifting on the wind
you went your way to the spirit world

If I were ever
to damage
myself
it would only be
so that I
could bleed
poetry.