some pretend
to be
a good wisher
but are just
selfish
hollow
selves
feeding on others
for their
personal shortlived
contentment

lamplight through the leaves
leave and let me love
let me be and live my life
to die, doggishly

puddles gathered
muddled and battered
dry in the heat of the day
rather to go on
than hang on
to life lived

for shame to those
who cling
for going, is such a kind thing

Being a.l.o.n.e.
Nothing short of the feeling of emptiness
But not quite there because we are never
truly
alone
In those moments you find blessings
Find laughter in yourself & your so called thoughts
In those moments you learn what it
feels like to be embraced by yourself
& take notice in the air around you
To be Alone
is lonely, yes
But what is life without a lil reverence
Most often found in those times of
L.o.n.i.l.i.n.e.s.s.

Happiness is an empty street
And a fast car.
Happiness is a clean, cold pool
You plunge into on a hot day.
Happiness is someone in your bed
Who’s gone in the morning
If you don’t want company
Or who stays if you do.
It’s someone who is happy to read the paper
Or take a hike with you.
It’s not worrying what others think
About you and your beliefs
And the wisdom to know who counts.
Happiness is strength,
Enough to fight the world
Or luxuriate in things gone well.
Happiness is attracting and repelling
Without having to try.
Happiness is a an aching fist
And an attacker’s black eye.
Happiness can be a warm gun,
Depending who gets hit.*
Happiness is not waiting for love,
Then falling in love in seconds.
It is knowing that you are fine
With or without a vow,
Yet being able to say “yes”,
When lightning strikes
And “no” when it’s just a cloud.
Yet happiness is not being sure
And bathing in uncertainty,
Of the pleasure in mystery.
Happiness is loving, faults and all,
An intensity so focused
That you’d gladly die for the one
Who was sent by some mixture
Of sunlight and shade,
On an ordinary afternoon,
Happiness is his body in yours,
His sweat on your skin in summer,
And body heat on cold nights.
Happiness is loving a little boy
Who looks like both of you
And knowing that love can transfigure
Time, exceed itself and encompass
More than one.
Happiness is contentment
In realizing how much you’ve had
And say you’ll feel rewarded
When your random life is done.
Happiness is the legend they tell
About you when you are gone;
The feeling is theirs and maybe yours.
Happiness is knowing that, if you go too far,
That there is no heaven or hell,
Or if there is,
Then anyone can play guitar.

September 9, 2020

Second chances exist in the smell of pine needles on a winter day
A walk as the day wakes, bleary eyed and yawning
As dawn breaks to show sunlight over the steepest cliff
The wind in my hair even after I swore I’d shave it off

It exists in the Avett brother songs
Words I learned from someone I used to hate
Melodies that help me heal even now
While the record spins by my bed and I feel like like I’m just now breathing for the first time
The birds chirp to their tune and I can’t help but sigh deep,
in and out

Second chances exist in these moments I’ve crafted
The smell of a candle from a friend long ago
A necklace someone once thought I’d hate
On the dresser my mother built for me
Books I shared with the girl I grew up with
Pages I prayed she’d hold dear even when we parted
A well loved shirt and a hope for my future

Of coffee and cold mornings with you by my side
As we dance to no song, in time
Step, and swing.
You in my arms and your love in my heart.
Onward, towards nothing in particular.

What is contentment.
How do you know you are there
Where nothing matters of today tomorrow and yesterday
When everything is falling apart yet you stand firm
What is in your heart
What gives you that calm
What tells you stop worrying and breath  in the air
How do you smile through the pain
How do you function with your mind overburdened
How do you move with all the uncertainty
For each day passing is another moment gone
You can sit and regret it but it’s all lost
You take a moment to think
Is this how it feels
To be okay with what I have
And what I’ve lost?
To not be exceptional, beautiful and bright
But another ordinary being
Barely existing
Is this how it feels to be content?
Or is it more special ?

We all take
slow poison
willingly -  when we allow
toxic people in our life
to exploit
our vulnerabilities,
to prey
on our weaknesses...
to infest
their misery
on our blessings...
My dear
I have seen them casting spells
so evil
that they left nothing
but a dry, barren and empty soul....

I lay here searching for wakefulness
hours after sunrise.
Outside, remnants of a soft pink rest
among new-born grey clouds,  
And embers of a morning sun fade away.

I admire the transitioning sky, remembering how this life is a mystifying blur made of hellos and goodbyes.