I went searching,
Today,
For broken connections,
For old wisdoms,
For glimpses of a younger me
Through a younger me’s
Words.
It had been awhile
Since I thought about
The things
I used
To Know.
And I thought
And I searched
And I found
A silent sunset.
So
MySpace blogs are not a thing.

I’ve been afraid
Before
But always
Of a thing
Always
In a space.
These days though,
Fear circles my skull,
No matter what.
No matter where.
And I often forget how to breathe.

Nothing will ever be the same.
This shared context.
It’s...Unreal?
Or more real
Than we can ever understand.
I keep thinking...
Am I dreaming?
Are we all?
...Asleep?
...Awake?
I am
I know
We are
I think
We know
That nothing will ever be the same.

She draws
Breath
In
As she knows
To do
When the panics
Rise
And suddenly
In the edge
Between inhale
And ex
She wills
The knot
Of muscle
Beneath *******
And bone
To rest
And slow
Band
By
Band
Until
It is still
So she can be
For she is very tired.

And in the morning
I roll out
My old mat.
And on it
I gather
My stray
Yearnings
Concerns
Memories
Regrets
Hopes
Et cetera,
Making room
For them to thrash
And reach
And tumble about
Without taking me with them.

He watches her,
Jaw set,
As her eyes plead
The case her lips
Can’t speak.
“No,”
His eyes respond.
And, “not again,”
From his clenched jaw.
And “no... god please, no,”
From his tired shoulders.
And the dog barks,
And the kid calls,
And she moves as he walks past.
“I’m not leaving,”
She whispers,
With confidence,
To her angry cat,
“And sometimes that scares me.”

“I’m done”
She whispers,
Her resignation
Seeping
Through my ears,
Filling my skull,
Feeding the
One
Who
Knows
My worth,
Who
Keeps
Me safe,
Who remembers
The moments
That stripped
My worth
To bone,
And longs
For me
To be
Just
Bone.
And I knead
And pinch
And rub
My sins
Made flesh.
And try to
Remember
What it looks like
To care.

We both know
I’m bad at breakfast.
And good at preparing it for others.
But today I wish I liked eggs,
Loved a muffin,
Or toast.
So we could still love each other
When you prepare your own.

“Power,”
I say.
“My word is power.”
And the hesitation
Is as great
As the clarity.
And what comes
Makes heart
And body
Tremble,
Nearly off
The bone,
And writhe
Nearly out
Of skin.
Did I choose power?
Or did power choose me?
And time and space shatter,
And I survive to have soup,
And brush my teeth
Before bed.

Mitákuye Oyás'iŋ.
To all my relations.

I guess I imagined things
Differently.
That our Love
Wouldn't flow
Down the path
I'd worn bare
When I was too young
To know
I was a person.
I must have imagined a person
Before I was she
And maybe while
And maybe now that
I seem to have forgotten
The kinds of things
That made up
My edges
That fit so well
With yours.

“Would you want to share first?”
They said
And I shared
Without knowing
What I wanted
Or wanted to say.
And I wrapped words
Around steps
So far
On my loud
And wordless
Journey
And they nodded
And listened
All the way to
The unanswered question
Of
One
Small
Act.
“An act to counteract,”
They called it.
Their name was Tabitha.
(I had them repeat it.)
Their name is Tabitha,
And they let me
Hold the question
Without answer
Until the bell.
And let me hug them
After we shared.

I watch him
Still
Resting,
His brows
Drawn slightly
By twists
Of a dream
Since faded.
I watch
And I remember
Him
Above and
Inside me
Pushing
Past
Pain
Shrouded
In regret
Locked
Within
Shame
Posing
As
Eagerness
To
Please.
And the memory
Stirs
At my root
Cracks open
My chest
And pulls
The bow
Of my spine
To lift my chin
To sky.
And my gasp
Is barely audible
Over his voice,
“Baby?”

“My dear,”
I start.
But where
From here?
I search
For magic words
Unspoken,
The ones
With the power
To guide him home.
And with the power
To remind you it’s his.
But the “come home” words
Are worn and weak
From use.
Like I am worn and weak
And used
To the way things have become.
And even alone
With my pencil
I fall into silence.

The most recent
Day one.
Your stillness
Thrashes.
Your silence
Screams.
And I hope
This stays a one.
I don’t dare hope
That there’s a two.
And I wish you would struggle out loud.

She stumbles
And swings
Along
A tightrope
Of yearning
And panic
And relief,
Grasping for the coat sleeves
And purses
And ponytails
Of those
Who get
So close
Yet walk
With ease.

In the dark
And creaky
Morning hours,
She moves
In stumbles
And tiptoes,
Breathes
In whispers
And curses,
As high melts into low,
And reality swallows the dream.
“I’m done,”
She pleads to
The dog
She forgot
To feed,
“I promise.”

“I don’t...”
She blinks,
“I don’t.”
And suddenly,
She doesn’t.
She scrambles,
Face blank,
Body still,
For something
Known.
She reaches
Into the dark,
Her hand
Probing
For something
To clutch
And reaching
Too far,
She topples.
“I didn’t,”
She says,
“Know what the end
Could feel like”

Stretching
Into the warm
Soft,
Living
Flesh
Of my body,
And past
Still,
I find myself
Suddenly
Aware
Of the bodies
That hold
The humans
I love,
And I pause
A moment
To stretch
Into that awareness,
Occupying briefly
Shoulders,
And toes,
Mouths
And skin,
That aren’t mine.
And I breathe
To a count
Of four,
And find
My edges
Safely
On my mat.

He acts.
A word,
A look,
A gesture.
And the hurt
He’s feeling
Strikes,
And she,
And I,
Fold,
Tucking in
Around impact
Withdrawing
Small
Around the blow.
From here,
I see
A yearning
There,
In that small space,
In her posture of diminishment,
And the yearning
Points to a need
Barely visible
Between the “no”s
And
(Switching
From memory
To intention)
She breathes
And I breathe
And we connect
In
And to
The strength
We embody
And gather
Our Selves
To join
For
And in
Expansion.

She peers
At him
Sideways
And wonders
When he
Forgot,
“I am
Beautiful,”
She whispers,
“And yours.”

He spits
As he speaks
And thrashes
About
Insisting
His rights
Outweigh
His duty
To serve
And I spit
Anger
For those
He will cause
To suffer.
And then -
I breathe
And let
My mouth form
Simple words
Of ancient
Sentiment,
And I remember
Him,
And recognize
The weakest parts
Of me.

The bayou,
Named after
The saint,
Named as
My mother’s brother,
Doubles
The trees
And sky
Perfectly,
Rich greens and blues,
Like windows
For my church.
And I wonder
About my inverse
Who stays
Hidden
Until I’ve
The courage
To remember
To walk on water.

The more
You spend,
The more
You win.
But
Not
Quite.

A smile
Creeps
Into her eyes
Before her cheeks
Draw
And her lips
Curl
And her words
Bring forth
The unexpected.
And they laugh
At the rightness
And the wrongness
Juxtaposed
And binding them
Together.

He smiles,
Despite
Best
Efforts.
The left corner
Where lips meet
Tucking,
Top lip
Peeling
From bottom.
And I
Recognize
Us
In the softness
Around,
And the light
From,
And the darkness
Within
His eyes
Before
He blinks.
And efforts
Win.

Her eyes close slightly,
And her lashes
Obscure
His offers
For connection.
She smiles
And her lips
***** barriers
She can huddle behind
If she gets very small.
She draws him close
And her sighs
Drown out
Her gasps for air.
But if he notices aloud,
The squinting, or smiling, or *******,
And how something’s a little bit different,
She might not stay to be seen.

I’m stumbling around in the dark
When you clutch my shoulders.
(I’m probably thirsty,
Or going to ***.)
“I love you so much,”
I hear you say.
“I’m so sorry.”
And I think I hear tears in your voice.
And maybe it’s my tequila and benadryl,
Or your whiskey and coke,
But probably it’s both.
“Forever,”
I hear myself say,
And I know you feel tears on my face.
“Forever.”
And you refill my water while I *** in the dark.

She watches
His shapely shoulders shift
As he washes their dishes
And hums
A bar
She can’t recall
Quite well enough
To join.

“And sometimes,”
She notes,
“We are easy.”

Moving
This body
On grass
Between stones
In swirls
Upon swirls
Switching back
And around
Until start
Becomes end.
One step
Then another
Marks the silence
Gathering
Within.

I lie
Skin to skin
Me to you
Between sheets
Between states
Between stories
Of what’s right
And what’s left
With covers
Peeled
Back.
I lie
Still
As alarms scream
As you whimper
As the dream fades
Into ends
And means
That encapsulate
Life
Into easy-to-swallow
Objectives.
I lie
Quiet,
Committing
To memory
What it’s like
To feel your love
In heels
Tucked in toes,
In fingers
Tangled in hair.
I lie
Because,
If I’m telling the truth,
I’m waiting to discover
This was our last.

She gasps
And clutches
Her chest
Just above, between
*******,
And her face
Splits.
Giggles,
Rippling
From core
To tips,
Bursting
Open
And through,
To yelps,
Bubbling
Rises and Falls,
Pushing
Through breath,
To wheezes
Marked
With squeaking
Pleas.
They remember
This later
When she
Is angry
And mean.

I sit
And breathe
With the owl
Song
And wish
For leaves
In thousands,
On the ends
Of arms
Spread,
Strong
And steady,
And long
For bits
To whisper
And shiver
With the wind,
A rustling
Swell
Behind owl song.
And then
I remember
To forget
Myself
As I sing
And rustle
And breathe
My way
To the next
Moment
We are creating.

My fingers
Drift
Around curves
Along edges
Across swaths
I’ll never forget.
I lean in
Hesitant
And hopeful
Just one breath
With my cheek
To your back,
Fingers still
Busy
With recall.
And your flesh
In my lungs
In my brain
Smells
Of wreckless abandon,
And the me
I miss
In the mirror.
You feel
Me reach
And the spot
Where you stopped
Is only warm
For a moment
Once
I’m
Alone.

Twenty-one years ago,
I was running my last speech tournament,
Serving this community of brilliant young people
Who spent our weekends
Telling other people’s stories
In cluttered classrooms
Of empty schools,
Longing to touch another human
To bring tears or laughter
With just our words
And the spaces between them.
And when the awards had been issued,
And our guests departed,
We seniors told our own stories,
Shared our own tears and laughter
As we prepared for what comes next.

I was not prepared for what came next.

Twenty-one years ago,
I walked into a house too brightly lit
For the middle of the night
Confused by the presence of people
I didn’t live with
Who looked away when they found my eyes.
And someone kind led me to my mother
Who held me tightly when I screamed
Over
And over
And over
That he shouldn’t have been out,
That this was stupid,
That... just... no.
And I sat on the swing
With a friend who could listen
And found my words lost
To the spaces between them.

Twenty-one years ago,
My story changed.
My tears changed.
My laughter changed.
Like the song I used to play on the piano
That includes a note the key no longer sings.


And today,
I use words
To remember.

Sometimes
I see
Evidence
In your text messages
That you are lost
But not enough evidence
To tell me where.

He is small
And quiet
In the seat
Beside me,
My invitations
To join
Gathering
At his feet.
He shrugs
My touch from
His shoulder
And
Squeezes
His eyes
Tight
Against the shudder.
I watch the shine
In his eyes
Grow bold
Into tears.
He sets his jaw
And swallows
A whisper,
“You were crying again.”

“After”
Is the word
For all that occurs
From here
On out.
Makes me wonder
What will be
That makes now
Become “before.”

For a moment
She is
And notices
The fun
That comes
With pretending
She is
Distinct
And truly
So,
So long
As she recalls
The pretense
And recognizes
Who writes
The role.
And in that moment,
She is love.

I notice,
Between a dance
And a tree,
How much
Of my doing
Is receiving
What is offered.
I see,
Stretching
Now
Beyond
This
And
Find myself
Steady.

I flow
And watch
My mind
Scamper
About,
Except when
I don’t,
When I wobble
And torque
With each
Glimpse
Of a time
That’s not now.
And then,
I ask,
What twin
Of mine
Suffers,
So?
Setting aside
My mind,
My body,
So my heart
Can open
(And my face
Can smile)
And remember
“We.”

I place
My parts
Just so
(In rows)
And settle
Into
Around
And through
My frame,
Letting go
Of what’s not needed,
So what is
Can steady.

I gather
Body
And mind
To my
Mat
Arranging
Them
Just so.
And my mind
Scampers away
And my body
Begins to cry
And I
Stop
And laugh
Out
Loud
Before gathering
Them back
And trying
The next
(Right?)
Thing.

I settle,
Bones
To mat,
And draw
Air and pain
From the world
Around me,
In and down,
Then rolling
Gently
Up and out,
Until
This
Small
Thing
Becomes
The only thing,
The every thing,
And I am now.

I shift
And lean
And pitch
Ahead to
Balance
These tips
To toes
And breathe,
In flight
For one,
Two,
Three,
Before
Looking
Back
And settling
Spread
From
Behind
To ahead,
Arriving
In all that
Could be.
And I breathe.

I lay
Still
And spread
In darkness,
Noticing
The print
Of my practice
In all
The in-between
Places,
And breathe
And startle
As she tumbles
Her skull
Into my hand
Looking for love
In shavasana.

I awake
To a dream
Much like
That of sleep
And find
My way
To my
Self
On my mat.
I settle
Into the nest
I’ve created
And feel
My parts
Separate
Together.
I don’t
Dream
In the
In between.

I find
My
Self
Settling
Into the place
And time
I call
Here
And
Now,
And let go
Of the job
Of doing
The
Calling,
Just
In Time
To pick it up
Again.

Finding
My shoulders
Set
In clay,
I invite
My arms
Open.
Open,
They invite
My heart
To shine.
Shining,
It invites
My sides
To lengthen.
Long,
They invite
My knees
To bend.
Bending,
They invite
My body
To fold.
And I bow
To greet
The now
Just
As it slips
Away.

I invite
My
Self
To still
And my mind
Gets busy,
Making,
And mending
And mapping,
and may-being,
While my body
And I
Watch
And acknowledge
Her
Courage
When she pauses
And sees.

My feet
Planted,
Hips lined up
Just so,
Arms reaching,
I settle
Into stillness
And notice
The twist
Begin
In my breath
Before
My body
Joins.
I follow,
And belong.