The cycle breaks us
unless we break the cycle.
After each turn,
each tumble
we'll see the markers
for an exit.
It'll be our choice
whether to take it.
It'll be our choice
whether to chance
another circuit.
But never doubt
it's our turn to pick.

how sweet the dark which hides me;
the brine that filters through;
the softness of the sand.

I cling - am singing - bivalve songs
my gills alight with blood.
hanging by a byssal thread in wait,
for what? indeed.

nutrition filters through my shell
- the tastes of distant loves -
I hunker down, secreting possibilities
that I can not see, of distant dreams.

the universe within my nerves expands,
too vast to be contained.
it explodes beyond myself;
no mantle can frame it.

it flows from me - this longing.
a remembrance of moments,
of chemicals in current.

every tear a life unlived.
each drop a thought potential.

the tides within establish norms which permeate
- instigate -
the turnings of this realm,
bringing forth the hardened form of signals I've rebound:

"I'm here! Hello?"
"Me too, me too!"
we echo through the seas,
anticipating textures on the tides.

our swirling minds reflect within,
entombing us with times.
we live inside our memories.

no past, no future, it all is now,
now, and now, and all around:
it's all we see.
and then...

we live again,
mirrored by the things we've grown around us.
from birth. through life.
we scrape, then die again, again.

all at once and forever, we thrive and fall,
encapsulated in our hemispheres which turn
and twist
and spin.

a spiral forms;
projects the pattern of our dreams without.
each sensation painted in the layers we wear
until it shines.
and see how it shines!

the pales and pinks and silvers shift,
revolve within themselves to show
our deepest fears
our brightest joys
as rainbows, smooth and silken.

if they could only know the truth:
that our beauty's accidental;
coincidental.
that we would shed our skins to swim,
settle quick into the plains
aside our lovers sending signals with the swell.

but now, we wait.
for what? indeed.
blind, deaf, locked away.

here, at the bottom of the world
I drift again through images of being.
I can not say which have gone,
which have not yet come.

another turn in the spiral is cast
- another layer hardens -
and I remain,
clench my shell and think:
how sweet the dark.

it’s summer here,
and my seasonal depression
slips away with the waves at the beach.
my eyes brighten with the sun,
and at last, i feel my heart warming,

the leaves are falling from the oak outside of my window.
autumn. lets old loves go with the seasons,
stripping itself of the sun damage from summer.
shaking itself clean of scars.
(i’m healing old wounds)

in winter, i slip.
fall along with the temperature.
stiffen along with almost everything
that meets the cold,
why am i so cold?

i sprout a little in spring.
defrost from the frozen winters.
wait for the new.
i see the oaks' new leaves.
i see the flowers in me bloom.

it’s summer here,
and i begin to feel like myself again.
letting my heart thaw
and my limbs stretch.
(the cold can’t bite me here).

I try to choose kindness
I try to take deep
breaths
and let my anger wash out

But, my there are wasps in
my brain

there is a buzzing
hot
hot
heat
settled where my neck and head
meet

I swim laps in the pool
I walk the road and back
I hope that maybe I will
make it back
kinder

I walk foot trails with
my son
the leaves casting dappled light on his gold-spun hair
I feel my chest break at the sight
He is so kind but he is mine
will he feel this buzzing

will it lead him to break every day
I try to quiet my voice so
he doesn't learn
to yell

but I never learned quiet.
I am teaching myself. I am learning
He is patient with me
that is not his job

I see the sun on his hair
He jumps on my back in the pool
he giggles and wails
love incarnate

I think I will remember these times most
I will feel nostalgia bathed in dappled gold
when my bones are brittle and old
when I have finally learned
to quiet the buzzing

but will it be too late
will his giggles cease
will his small hands turn into fists
will he become me

I am teaching myself. I am learning.
I hope he is learning too
I hope he is seeing me try, seeing me take deep breaths
seeing me scramble for kindness
kindness!
I thrash against these angry chains and I hope he knows

but
I watched my father thrash his whole life
It is how I knew to try
I still carry his anger in me like
like wasps in my brain

I choose kindness
I take deep breathes
I swim laps and walk trails
I hope that kindness will
chose me back