You are there.
You have always been
there.
Even when you thought
you were climbing
you had already arrived.
Even when you were
breathing hard,
you were at rest.
Even then it was clear
you were there.

Not in our nature
to know what
is journey and what
arrival.
Even if we knew
we would not admit.
Even if we lived
we would think
we were just
germinating.

To live is to be
uncertain.
Certainty comes
at the end.

by Erica Jong

I sit inside
Out my window is the moon
The presence that draws me from my most concious worries
Health, safety, fertility, image, curiousity
Why am I the way I am?
It is my experiences that make who I am, logically I know
For there to be a genuine magic, somewhere, I wish
I have a strange glimmer of hope, to bring that sparkle and magic closer to me
To revel in something greater than myself, my existence, my geographic location
Just once
I wait
And I worry
And I worry and wait
I don't think she would be proud of this, the moon,
I think she communicates with me, when I need it, when I believe it
I used to talk to spirits through my window as a child
I believed it was real, simply because I believed
There wasn't any crystal clear truth, I simply felt it
The moon brings me through the same window now
Her craters, and dips, her waning and waxing
How I have so many desires to be with her, so far away
Some nights I try to rise above all of these emotions, but my worries bring me back to Earth
A virus right now is spreading, killing many it encounters
If I believed in the power of God as strongly as I want to, maybe I'd feel some comfort or safety.
I'm open to anything, let that be known
I used to worry about my appearance so much, but I know see my actions will speak louder than my beauty
I am a lover, deep down, I crave it, I've let love absolutely destroy me, I've banked on it, I've thought about it, I've needed it, I've had it, I've lost it, let it go, destroyed it
And I've waited for it
Now, these relationships have a hazy linen over them, I can retrieve them with pictures and heavy introspection, but some part of me doesn't enjoy going back
How do I move forward each day with the thoughts of yesterday with me
And how do I do so without the thoughts of yesterday
I try not to be greedy, I try to give, I try to do what is right, and if I do what is wrong, I learn.
There aren't many mistakes I can make with my existence, I'm curious every day
I love someone around me every day
Romantically, I wish I was allowed to be close to those I want
But for now staying home is what is recommended, what's best
I miss going out, I miss getting tipsy at bars, I miss my skinny girl friends, I miss my best friends Angell and Grace, I miss driving to my dietitian and having two hours alone in my car every week...every other week
I miss seeing my therapist and my favorite teachers, I miss having reasons to create, I miss nannying, my job, and art museums in the city
I miss visiting E+an and his house in the city, I miss not being isolated
And the moon, she reminds me that all of those things aren't so far from me, because somehow she is, and yet she is right outside my bedroom window.
She is covered by clouds, and the dark midnight sky, but she is there, and she speaks a perspective I desperately seek, and I am grateful. And I do not live in fear.

What is normal, really?
What does safety mean in the long run?
I watched a video about how "our life is a virtual reality game" a couple days ago and I felt scared and unsafe, so I closed the video and distracted myself with a movie so the feeling of normality would come back and warm me and remind me that I'm safe in my own little world.
But when does this run out?
I can't help but imagine the feeling of the safety net breaking just as death smiles at me from outside my window.
How tragically beautifu,
How beautifully tragic,
that bittersweet feeling must be.

a plastic duck in the middle
of a fiberglass and resin expanse
there's still a swarm of water
dripping lethargically
down, down, down
as if they have nowhere to go
sinking but never completely disappearing

the tile is cold under my feet
no steady movement this early at dawn
the window outside equally
tells of a deluge
frightening even the pebbles that make up a gravel road
but the birds are frantic with delight
a screaming song that could electrify
a sizzle more than whistling
almost burns my ears

domestic life under a wooden roof
my eyes always half closed
in contentment or excessive worry
i can never tell the difference

a pattern of small footsteps approaches me
a mop of hair and dreamy eyes
always reminding me that this is me
a grounding technique personified

scattered clothes grazing
that curious part between ankle and sole
reminding me that i am here
everything has paused
there's no reason to look at the clock
what once was midnight could be noon

the plants croon as i brush
their dusty leaves with neem oil
drooling over all the attention
a freckle in my arm spends an eternity
prancing around the fact
that I've had the same repetitive thought
for an hour now
but we are alive
that's all I can know for sure

I walk home in the
Dark of the night
From the school to my car.

Terrified I call my mom
And now I feel a little safe.
I think,
"Who's gonna hurt someone
Talking on the phone?"

Still it's not enough,
I look back
Every chance I get
To assumed my scared heart
That I'm safe.

The dimly lit street
Don't help!
The horror scene
In my head continues
To unfold.

Finally,
i get into my car
and drive home safely.

Maybe I need to
Stop watching thriller movies
Or
Maybe women's safety needs
To be taken more seriously.